


oh my baby i've been dying here (on the other side)

by rachelsdl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dad! Harry, Dance Instructor! Louis, Father-Daughter Relationship, Harry writes music with Mitch, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, anxiety attack, harry puts his daughter in dance classes, it doesn't last very long/get very intense, louis owns his own dance studio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-04-05 04:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14035896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelsdl/pseuds/rachelsdl
Summary: Harry's first go at parenting was supposed to go smoothly. He saw it all play out in his mind, but Jacqueline had other plans for him. She left him frazzled and confused and not knowing how to do any thing right. But a certain dance instructor with kinds eyes and understanding arms seemed to know all the answers Harry hadn't even known he'd been seeking.OR Harry's daughter, Jacqueline, takes dance lessons at the Tomlinson Dance Company and Louis becomes more than just a dance instructor.





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Harry and Jacqueline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATED 5/13/18:  
> hey friends this is SUPER IMPORTANT TO READ. If you've been here before, you may find this looks a bit different. 
> 
> this is a reminder that my story is in fact a work in progress. it is the first full story i've written in a decade (literally) and i'm 22, so....you do the math. i'm rusty, and as I reread and re edit, i have fixed/switched around/added quite a few things. 
> 
> pleaseeeeeeeeee if you have the time or even care, take the time to re read the story once I have it updated completely. i am finally happy with the way these first 6 chapters are, so they shouldn't be changing again. 
> 
> please just bare with me.
> 
> \-----------------------
> 
> SONGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:   
> Wander by Harbor & Home (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVcZnT5YGo4)  
> The Other Side by VACAY (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFutt_nJ3ko)

It was pretty difficult to find the right place for Jacqueline at first. Doncaster was a decent sized city, Harry reckoned. But he wasn’t just looking for a  _ decent _ dance studio. Jacqueline required a bit more attention than most children her age. She was particular. Or at least, that’s the only word Harry had found to describe her. She wasn’t a difficult child, just sometimes difficult to handle. She was a full time job, which made it pretty hard for Harry to find time for his work, but he made do. Harry was quite lucky to have a few close mates around him who were his full time cheer squad since his ex, Em, left him to be a single father, not to mention his mum and sister who were only a short distance away. They might not always be available for sitting, but they were always a phone call away.  

Jacqueline had been in and out of different nurseries in the area for the better part of three years  — seven nurseries to be exact. Harry fucking hated every moment, taking her in and out of places, but she’d been having a difficult time adjusting to the people around her. The teachers never knew how to help. They’d tell him that she talked too much. She’d talk when she should be quiet, yet wouldn’t respond to them when they asked her questions. She wouldn’t take her naps because the cots always hurt her body. She’d scream or flinch when touched. She’d only show interest in a few things throughout the day and would refuse to do anything else. Most of them simply told Harry they thought nursery was too difficult for her to handle so early on, that he should try again next year when she was a bit more mature.  He understood, or better put, he tried to understand. He knew she was hard to work with sometimes, but she was just a little kid. She shouldn’t be expected to be “mature” or know how to sit still for eight hours a day. 

Jacqueline was four and half now. Harry had been receiving the usual childcare funding for over a year, but he’d tried putting Jay in nursery earlier. Being a single parent, he’d needed to return to work to provide for his daughter. It was usual for kids in Doncaster to go to nursery starting at two or three years old. It wasn’t usual for kids to be kicked out. 

He wanted Jacqueline to be normal. He wanted Jacqueline to fit in with her peers. To have friends. He wanted to plan her fifth birthday party and know people would show up. He wanted her to have fun sleepovers as she grew up, where the girls laughed all night and watched Princess Diaries. He longed to take Jacqueline on play dates in the park or to the zoo. But none of these things were remotely tangible for Jacqueline when she hadn’t managed to stay in one place for longer than a couple of months. 

He wasn’t oblivious to Jacqueline’s particularities. Her unique interests. How could he be? She’d been bugging Harry about dance since she seemed able to talk. She had a bit of trouble focusing on people, so she’d been physically dancing around them for years while she rambled about her favorite songs to dance to. Harry remembered, quite fondly, the bright look on Jacqueline’s face when Anne and Robin had asked her to dance with them at Gemma’s wedding last year.

After so many nurseries, he’d finally decided to look into dance. He had no idea if it’d help Jacqueline, but he figured it surely couldn’t hurt. Maybe dance could serve as some sort of outlet for her energy, then it would make her easier to have in class. Or maybe it would just be an hour of Jacqueline's day when she could just enjoy herself and have fun. Maybe she could find a few friends to play with, who would share her love of dance. He didn’t know what to expect, but he’d spent weeks talking over the phone with different instructors and asking how they’d be able to handle situations that Jacqueline would likely put them in. It was so hard, so many of the instructors  _ wanted  _ to help Jacqueline but realistically knew they wouldn’t be able to do much in difficult situations, especially with such large class sizes and high enrollment. 

After a few weeks of searching, he ran across the Tomlinson Dance Company. He’d never heard of it before, but Harry wasn’t exactly in the know when it came to the world of dance. The main instructor, Louis, seemed different than the rest. Straight away, he’d offered to take Harry on a tour of the company before ever even bringing Jacqueline into the studio for classes. 

“I would never want you to bring your daughter into a place where she may be uncomfortable.” Louis had this thick Yorkshire accent. “I’m sure you know better than I would what would make her feel most comfortable.” Harry found the way his voice rose in pitch at the end of his sentences quite endearing. 

It was shocking really, the offer of a tour, and Harry did his best to keep his emotions in check. None of the ten or so instructors he’d previously talked to had offered this to Harry. It was such a simple gesture, but it had filled a gap that Harry hadn’t even noticed was present with the other dance studios. Harry had agreed to the tour immediately, only slightly choked up. He was a bit of a sap when it came to his daughter; he only ever wanted the best for her.  A smooth wave of relief washed over Harry as he came to realize how much this would help his decision and perhaps, calm his nerves. He needed to find the right place for Jacqueline. She was so perfect to Harry, and she only deserved his best.

It was a Wednesday afternoon when Harry found himself feeling very out of place as he stepped into the Tomlinson Dance Company studio. Harry, dressed in his outrageously patterned cardigan with a simple pair of skinnies, most definitely did not blend in with the boys and girls running around in black and pink leotards, tights, and ballet shoes. And this was a tame day for Harry’s wardrobe too. He sent a small thanks to the heavens for his last minute decision to wear black pants instead of the blue pants that would have matched the cardigan perfectly. 

The building was bright and airy the moment he walked in. The lights were warm and inviting. Harry could even appreciate the soft lavender of the walls. Above the front desk was a large black print out of the Tomlinson Dance Company sign that was also hanging above the door outside. There was a pleasant hint of flowers lingering in the air which contrasted with the sweaty bodies that were running around in an organized chaos. He could hear music filtering in from one of the closer classrooms.

He came to the desk at the front of the room, clearing his throat lightly before speaking, “Hello.” His voice was drawn out due to his slight discomfort, “I’m, uh, looking for Louis Tomlinson?” 

Was it obvious to everyone around him how out of place he felt?

The small girl behind the computer  —  Perrie, the plaque at the top of the desk told him  — smiled up at him, “Absolutely. Your name?”

Harry’s lips twisted as he scratched his cheek, “Harry Styles.”

She nodded before turning away and disappearing behind a wall. A small man, only a couple of inches taller than Perrie, followed her back out. He came around the front of the desk and stood in front of Harry. “Louis Tomlinson,” he said, reaching his hand out. “Harry Styles, I presume?”

Harry nodded.

“Nice to meet you, mate,” Louis replied. 

Louis was, well, unexpected to put it lightly. For a man with his name on a building, he was very lax. He padded around in a pair of thin socks, wearing a simple pair of trackies. He was clad in a loose almost sheer t-shirt which fell just below his collarbone, revealing a small part of a larger tattoo that Harry definitely wasn’t staring at. His hair looked soft. And he appeared relaxed and comfortable, the image of everything Harry was _ not _ feeling. 

Harry felt Louis’ eyes lingering on his cardigan for a moment longer than necessary before he lead Harry down the hall. “Whereabouts are you from?” He glanced back in Harry’s direction as he lead Harry down a small corridor. 

Harry cleared his throat, “I’m from Cheshire. Yeah, but Jacqueline’s mother is from Doncaster which is how we ended up here. Never decided to move back after — ” Harry scrunched his nose uncomfortably.  _ Too much information,  _ he reminded himself as he stopped mid-sentence. Nevermind that cutting off a sentence, leaving someone hanging, wasn’t exactly proper either.  He sighed heavily and simply pushed away the line of thought. 

If Louis noticed, he made no mention. “That’s nice, mate. I grew up in Donny, meself, but we’ve been to Cheshire with our competitive dances before. Glad you could come see us today.” He guided them into a large room. “Here is our main dance room. Jacqueline may be in this room a few times, but really, this room is mostly for our larger and more advanced classes. We have a couple of other, smaller studio rooms which we use for private classes as well as our beginner classes.” Harry again felt Louis studying his features with arms crossed, rubbing the tattoo that took up most of the space there. Harry wondered what it was Louis saw. 

Louis quickly showed Harry the smaller rooms, while dodging the masses of students swarming around them in the hallways, before taking Harry back into his office to discuss the classes a bit more specifically. The room was a good size with grey walls and a stark black desk sat in the middle. Louis’ chair behind the desk was actually a stability ball turned into a chair, and Harry wondered if Louis used it for posture or if he actually just enjoyed bouncing on it. Louis seemed like the sort who just wanted the ball to bounce on it rather than for its practical purpose. They ended up across from the desk though, in two arm chairs that matched the lavender walls in the front of the studio. 

“Harry, could you tell me a bit more about Jacqueline? Her behaviors, things that bother her, anything that may get her worked up — those types of things.” Harry’s face twisted as if he’d tasted something sour, and he fidgeted with a ring that was placed on his index finger. “I’d just like to get a sense of which class would suit her best.” Louis decided to add when Harry’s facial expression hadn’t cleared. 

“She gets distracted easily.” Harry heard his voice before he knew what to say. There were so many things he could say about Jacqueline. What was important for Louis to know?  “She will scream or cry sometimes if she’s being touched.” His lips untwisted and twisted again within seconds, it was one of his nervous habits he couldn’t help. “She can be pretty clumsy, almost like she may not see everything quite right.” Harry sighed deeply, “She’s not a bad kid. She’s just particular. She likes order, and she gets all out of sorts if she doesn’t have it.” 

After Harry had been silent for some time, Louis spoke, “Harry, does Jacqueline have any… diagnoses?”

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Uh, no.” Harry wasn’t sure why he felt a flicker of indignation at Louis’ assumption, but he pushed the feeling away. Louis just wanted to know how to best see to Jacqueline’s needs after all. 

Louis nodded empathetically, “Okay, well Harry, we do offer group classes. Most will be between five and eight students, but we can also provide private lessons if you think it would suit Jacqueline better to have one-on-one attention.” 

“I’d like to keep her in group classes, if possible. I’d like her to make some friends,” came Harry’s slow draw. 

“That’s perfectly alright, mate,” Louis nodded along, trying his best to provide support to the younger man. “I’d be happy to get Jacqueline in one of the classes that I personally instruct if that will make you feel most comfortable. If she’d be better suited with a female instructor, I can also arrange that.”

Harry’s rings bumped together as he scratched his cheek again. “No, no, she seems to work best with men. Probably just because she’s used to me being around, I suppose.”

Louis hummed. He rose from his chair and moved over to his desk to pick up his laptop before returning stand at Harry’s side. He held the laptop in one arm and pulled out a pair of thin glasses, placing them on the bridge of his nose, before he began typing with the other hand. He looked down at Harry once he’d found whatever he was looking for. “We offer many styles of dance and levels of difficulty, but assuming Jacqueline has never danced before we would place her in one of our beginner classes. There’s no specific style, just teaches the foundations of dance and perhaps bits from different types of dance here and there. It allows our students to determine what dances they may like best before commiting to a class of just one style.” Louis looked back at his screen, studying something for a moment before clicking a few more things.  “And it looks like I’ve some space in my class tomorrow night at 5:30 or on Friday mornings at 9:00. Do either of those work with your schedule?” He glanced down at Harry through his glasses.

“A beginner class sounds good, yeah,” Harry responded to Louis’ first piece of information before continuing, “Tomorrow would work best.”

Louis nodded quickly, “Brilliant. Our first class is always free of charge. We want to make sure Jacqueline likes it, of course. After the first class, each class will be fifteen quid, making the month usually come to sixty quid. Of course as Jacqueline progresses to different classes, prices will begin to vary.”

Harry made a soft sound of agreement. “So tomorrow?”

Louis nodded before placing his laptop on the chair. He reached out to shake Harry’s hand again. “It was nice to meet you, lad. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow and to meeting little Jacqueline.” 

—

Picking Jacqueline up from nursery was an absolute nightmare. And Harry was already exhausted before he’d even left the building. He’d just finished spending hours pouring over his songs in the studio with Mitch and had gotten absolutely nowhere. His mind was on a never ending loop Louis Tomlinson and other dance related things. He didn’t know what kind of clothes Jacqueline would need for class. What type of shoes. Did she need a tutu? Was there a dress code he should have asked Louis about? It never stopped.

He’d spaced off one too many times for Mitch not to notice. He’d asked about it, but Harry’s ability to swerve questions was so good with his painfully long winded responses. He had this habit of mumbling confusing off-topic statements, making it obvious that he was avoiding the question, yet it took so much effort to follow that people usually forgot what they’d been discussing in the first place. 

He’d shown up to nursery late which was his first mistake. When Harry walked into the building, he could already hear Jacqueline's screams from down the hall. He began to mentally prepare himself for the storm that was sure to come. Jacqueline was crouched in the corner of the small room, with her hands covering her ears, as she took short, shallow breaths in between bouts of crying. Harry quickly and profusely apologized to the teacher for both his tardiness and the screeching. It was his second time being late to this particular nursery, and he knew he only had a few more chances before they would inevitably kick them to the kerb as well. 

As he approached Jacqueline, he reached down to pick her up; that had been his second mistake. Harry wrapped his arms around Jacqueline who had, in turn, screeched louder and shoved him away. “Late. Late. Late. Late. Late,” she muttered under her breath in between quick inhales. She wasn’t getting enough air, that much Harry could tell. 

For a four-year-old, Jacqueline was so intelligent. Her internal clock was sharper than any other person he’d ever known. She knew exactly when they needed to leave the house each morning, when she should arrive at nursery, and  — to Harry’s dismay—  when she should be picked up. She knew when they had meals, and she knew when she needed to go to bed. If ever Harry was even a moment off schedule, Jacqueline would tell him. She didn’t do well with the sort of changes that occurred in day-to-day life. 

“Jay, I know. I was late; I‘m so sorry, love.” 

When Em had first picked up Jacqueline at the hospital, she’d been so exhausted that all she had uttered was a quiet “Hi, Jay,” as she had held Jacqueline in her arms. Harry had used the nickname ever since. It was the moment when he’d fallen in love with his daughter. When he’d promised to himself that he’d never leave her. That he’d protect her with his life. 

Harry tried again to pick up Jacqueline, and this time she allowed him to wrap his arms around her small frame though her wails continued. “Okay, love, we’re going to go home.”

The entire ride home, Jacqueline kicked in her car seat, continuing to cry. They subsided a little after about ten minutes. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for her to get this worked up over Harry being late. It just didn’t happen too often because Harry always wanted to avoid situations like this. Harry never quite understood why she became so upset over just a few minutes. His only guess was that Jacqueline may subconsciously be afraid that Harry would decide not to pick her up one day and leave her like her mum had. But Harry felt like that was more of his mind working than Jacqueline's; after all, she had only been 8 months old when Em had decided motherhood wasn’t for her. It wasn’t exactly something Harry thought Jacqueline would remember, and Harry had never given her any reason to think he’d leave her. It was just the only option his mind had managed to fabricate. 

As soon as they got through the door of their flat, Jacqueline sprinted to her room where she most likely had thrown herself onto a pile of stuffed animals. That was another one of those things she did when she was upset. Harry didn’t understand that either.

Harry didn’t understand most of Jacqueline really.

But it just never mattered. He'd always been determined to be the parent who was accepting of their child rather than trying to change the very essence of their being. He’d grown up so confused about who he was. He knew his mum would have supported him in any choices he’d made, but Harry had never fully figured out who he was. He had just navigated the waves as they came to him throughout the years. He never wanted his child to feel like she couldn’t come to him about anything. He wanted to be a friend more than a parent, just like his mum had been for him. So he loved Jacqueline in all of her uniqueness. And he did his best to understand her, to help her, to be with her. 

He just, he did his best.

He was trying his hardest to be the best parent he could be. 

He hoped one day Jacqueline would see that. 

And as he looked around at the mess of his flat, that was less of a liveable space and more of a playground for Jacqueline, he just really, really hoped that Jacqueline would come to understand his side of things one day. It wasn’t easy being her father, but it was the only thing Harry had. And he was doing his best. His best was all he had to give. 

All he could do was hope for Jacqueline’s acceptance in return for his own. 

—

Jacqueline hated her leotard. Abhorred it even. Harry bought it before work, after dropping Jay off at nursery. He’d thought it would be a nice gift for her when she started her dance classes with Louis tonight. He’d imagined picking her up from nursery and showing her the leotard. She’d jump into his arms, so excited to start dance. She’d look as cute as a button in her pink leotard, and she’d fit right in with all the other little kids learning how to dance. He’d take a couple of pictures to send to his mother. They’d have a phone call where she’d gush over how adorable her granddaughter was. That’s how it had gone in his head. 

Harry was a fool. 

It hadn’t gone that way at all. It never did. 

Jacqueline had put on the leotard and within minutes, was ripping it off of her body, screaming.

“It hurts, Mummy, it hurts!” She had broke out into hysterical tears, scratching incessantly at her skin even minutes after the leotard had been removed. Harry had to pull her wrists away from her body to keep herself from scratching until she bled. And not for the first time, Harry wondered what would happen as she grew up and became harder to hold down. How much would she hurt herself?

So here they were, Jacqueline decked out in her purple leggings and a loose cotton tee. About fifteen minutes into the drive, she’d finally settled down because Harry had put on her favorite music  — a song from the show she watched every night on her telly before bed. She hopped out of her carseat, excitedly repeating, “ZingZillas, ZingZillas, ZingZillas!” 

They entered the studio, Jacqueline holding Princey, her absolute favorite stuffy, in one hand and Harry's finger in the other. He approached the desk, saying they were there for the 5:30 class. Harry filled out a few papers before Perrie guided them towards the small room Louis had shown him just yesterday. 

First to arrive, the room was empty save Louis. Harry had planned it that way, hoping it would allow Jacqueline to meet Louis before having to see a group of people. Harry thought it might help ease her nerves.

Louis looked up at the receptionist’s light rap on the door before leaving Harry and Jacqueline with Louis. He smiled, first at Harry, and then towards Jacqueline. Louis was looking rather soft, clad in a grey beanie and his fringe sticking out _ just so _ . His sheer shirt resembled the one Harry had seen him yesterday and again fell just below his collarbone. The letters tattooed on his chest were more visible than they had been yesterday. His trackies were dark grey with small polka dots on them, which made Harry smile. He was a walking contradiction, looking happy and awake, yet also like he could jump into bed at a moment’s notice.

“Harry, nice to see you again, mate.” Louis’ thick accent was such a stark difference to the previous silence. He placed his phone on a small table next to a stereo system that Harry assumed was for dance music. He took a few long strides towards Harry, reaching his hand out to shake it.

Harry returned the gesture before replying, “This is Jacqueline.” 

Louis’ eyes flitted to Jacqueline and Princey. “Well aren’t you adorable. I love your purple pants.” 

Jacqueline looked at Louis’ pants, rather than responding. 

This is the part where a normal parent would lightly nudge their child and say something like “Jacqueline will you say hello to your new dance teacher.” Harry knew better than anyone that forcing Jacqueline to speak when she did not want to would be good for no one. After a decidedly  _ not  _ awkward pause in which both Louis and Harry waited to see if Jacqueline would respond to Louis’ comment, Harry responded with a light, “Right, uh, well… I wasn’t sure if there was a dress code for these sorts of things? I got her a leotard, but, uh, well, she hated it.” Harry let out a light hearted laugh while scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

Louis hummed quietly, contemplating his words, “Yes, well, we do prefer our students to wear tights and a leotard as well as the proper shoes, of course. We’d really like leotards to be a solid color. Some girls like to wear tutus, but that’s mostly preference.  Of course, we don’t expect you to have everything together the first couple of weeks. I’d be happy to speak with you about specifics after class if you have questions.” Louis shifted his gaze from Jacqueline, to Harry. 

Harry nodded shortly, “That works fine.”

“Did you plan on staying for the duration of the class, or will you be picking Jacqueline up at the end?”

“I thought maybe it’d be good to try to let her do it on her own? Thought I might end up hindering more than helping,” Harry replied. 

A couple more people began to trail into the room, parents carrying water bottles and duffels, and little girls already twirling in their tutus. A few waited patiently next to Louis, like they wanted to ask him something. Louis lightly placed one of his hands on a small girl's shoulder who was next to him. “That’s perfectly fine. You left your cell number with our receptionist if we need to get a hold of you, I presume?”

Harry nodded; it was in the required paperwork.

“Great, we’ll talk after class, then.” Louis offered up a small smile as he turned to greet the young one who’d been waiting for his undivided attention. 

Jacqueline and Harry trailed to the side of the room to a bench. Harry reached into the small backpack he’d brought with him. He pulled out a pair of cheap dance shoes he’d found at the store with the leotard, figuring they’d suffice for the time being. Jacqueline sat perky on the bench as Harry crouched in front of her, helping rid her of her trainers. He barely had time to put the small flats over her feet before Jacqueline was shaking her head vigorously, “No, Mummy!” 

Harry took a moment to breathe, quickly glancing around the room at the other parents, before responding, “What is is?”

“They itch!”

“Well, you need to wear your dance shoes to dance class, love.”

Jacqueline continues to shake her head, “No.”

Harry took a moment to think it through; the trainers were not proper footwear for dancing, but he also couldn’t have her dancing barefoot. Within moments he devised a plan, removing the flats before returning with Jacqueline’s socks. The smooth fabric had never bothered her, so he was hoping her dance shoes would still fit over the socks. Luckily, they did, and Jacqueline seemed pleased enough with her new shoes. 

Crisis averted, Harry had to admit that an hour away from Jacqueline was needed right now. Did that make him a horrible father? She’d thrown so many fits today, and they just seemed to be growing more frequent. He had no idea what he was doing wrong or why she seemed to be growing more and more frustrated each day. The worst part was that he had no idea how to help her. That’s what left him most drained. It wasn’t her screaming or fussing or crying, it was the fact that his baby girl was so clearly upset, and he had no idea what to do. Everything he used to do to soothe her either wasn’t helping anymore or made matters worse. It was hard to watch, and he needed  — really, really needed  — to regain some strength and catch his breath. Sometimes it was hard to keep his emotions in check when Jacqueline was around, but he really needed this time to gather himself. 

Jacqueline sprinted off towards Louis which, Harry supposed, was at least a good sign. He stuffed her bag and Princey under the bench, leaving her water bottle out so she had easy access to it. He took Jacqueline’s excited yelling at Louis as his signal to exit, slipping out of the room and into his car before Jacqueline could realize he was gone. 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is going right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATED 5/13/18:  
> hey friends this is SUPER IMPORTANT TO READ. If you've been here before, you may find this looks a bit different.
> 
> this is a reminder that my story is in fact a work in progress. it is the first full story i've written in a decade (literally) and i'm 22, so....you do the math. i'm rusty, and as I reread and re edit, i have fixed/switched around/added quite a few things.
> 
> pleaseeeeeeeeee if you have the time or even care, take the time to re read the story once I have it updated completely. i am finally happy with the way these first 6 chapters are, so they shouldn't be changing again.
> 
> please just bare with me.
> 
> \-----------------------
> 
> SONGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:   
> Medicine by Havelin (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5vTYKONznU)

Harry assumed Jacqueline’s first dance class had gone well, or at least, well enough that they didn’t have to call him part way through to rescue her, and Louis had no complaints when they’d spoken about the dress code after class. 

Harry bought Jacqueline two different leotards within the next week. She’d been asking for a “leo” ever since she saw the other girls wearing them. Both of the letoards he had bought left her screaming until her throat had gone raw, and Harry was at a loss. He had absolutely no clue why she was so sensitive to these fabrics, but he was honestly at the point of googling ‘why will my daughter not wear normal clothes’. He was just that lost. It was pitiful. He hadn’t googled that, determined that he was better father than  _ those  _ kinds of fathers. Instead, he was sitting in the parking lot of Tomlinson Dance Company about to ask Louis for help. Completely unannounced, no warning, but he had no idea what else to do. So, he wasn’t much better than the father’s who did end up googling questions like that, he supposed. 

Walking into someone’s place of work unannounced was completely unprofessional — incredibly rude, really. Harry couldn’t really find it in him to feel guilty though. Up to this point, Louis had shown nothing but kindness and concern for Jacqueline’s time in the dance studio. While that didn’t mean Louis was always going to be accommodating to every one of Harry’s whims, Harry hoped that Louis just might be. Maybe at some point Harry’s luck would run out, but he was willing to take a risk. 

Harry stepped into the studio, finding Louis and Perrie, if his memory served correctly, huddled behind the desk peering at the computer in front of them. Louis had one hand resting on his hip that was popped out, and his other hand resting on his growing stubble. Harry hadn’t really noticed the stubble until this moment. Louis and Perrie both looked up in the same moment toward Harry.  Louis stood up straight, head tilting as his eyes landed on Harry. 

“Harry,” Louis said, fiddling with the collar of his shirt a bit before his hands settled at his side. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today.”  

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like this was a very poor plan, interrupting Louis’ work day. Surely this was uncommon, and Louis must have been thinking that he was going to be one of those troublesome parents. The kind that complains about class sizes or costumes or something. What did dance mums even care about? Harry didn’t know. He was clearly failing Jacqueline in yet another area of their life. Louis would probably end up kicking Jacqueline out of his classes, just like all the other places  —  only this time it would be Harry’s fault completely. He’d have to go home to Jacqueline and explain why she could no longer go to dance class. 

“What can I help you with?” Louis tried a second time when Harry hadn’t responded. His smile was soft, settling only some of Harry’s nerves. 

“Right, yes. I’m so sorry for walking in like this. It’s proper rude, I’m aware. I didn’t know if maybe you had a moment to speak about something. About Jacqueline, I mean, of course. Of course, about Jacqueline.” 

The left half of Louis' lips quirked up a bit. “Course we can.”

Harry followed as Louis motioned them into his office before they were sat in the same chairs Harry had been in less than a week ago. 

“What can I do for you, love?” Louis’ accent fit all too well with the term of endearment.

Harry forced himself to bite down on the smile that was threatening to break out across his face.

“I’m at a loss,” Harry sighed. “This may sound so, so stupid and trivial, but I truly do not know what to do. I’ve bought Jacqueline three leotards, all completely different. She refuses to wear any of them. They itch and drive her nuts. She screams for hours, honestly,  _ hours _ . I cannot find one that she’ll wear, and I don’t know where to find different leotards, Louis. I really don’t. There really aren’t that many places in Donny that sell leotards. I need some help, seriously. I have to find her a leotard, and one that she won’t scream while wearing. I don’t know, she just, maybe, needs a material that's really soft. Maybe that doesn’t have tags in the back and really small seams so that it won’t bother her. It just can’t bother her, is all.” 

Louis’ eyes bugged out a bit. “Harold,” Louis laughed for a moment. It soothed Harry and calmed his nerves in a way that someone’s laugh should not. “Take a deep breath for me, mate. Slow down, I didn’t even know you could speak that fast. Truly, I’m floored.” 

Louis’ voice was so soft in his accent. It spread through Harry’s chest like a small tidal wave of relief. 

“I just need to find her a leotard, Louis. What kind of a shit father can’t even get his daughter the right leotard?” Harry’s face fell into his hands. God, he really needed a break from life. Could time just  _ stop _ for a moment? He felt like he was running a marathon that he had never trained for and right when he completed the race, another one was starting. He doesn’t remember signing up for this when he became a father.

“Seriously lad, you need to slow down. The leotard is not the pinnacle of proper fatherhood. What leos have you bought, let’s just start there? We can touch on the fatherhood aspect later if you still feel the need to go there.” Louis looked like he wanted to laugh again, but for whatever reason (perhaps Harry’s complete mental breakdown for starters) he held back. “Let’s put away the dramatics for a moment,” Louis said instead, “and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Harry peaked at Louis through his fingers. “Well, I got the first one at Mark and Spencer’s which, admittedly, not the best place to shop for quality, but I just wanted to try to get a cheap one for her first class. I bought the second one at Matalan, and the last one online from Very.”

Louis visibly cringed at all of the options, and Harry whined, “See, I told you I am a horrible father. I know nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Louis chuckled quietly. “Just, nothing about dance. That’s fine, Harry. It’s to be expected.”

Harry continued to huff, feeling completely humiliated. This had been a bad idea.

Louis stood abruptly, causing Harry’s eyes to follow his movements, “Alright mate. Stop moping around. Up, up,” he gestured for Harry to stand. “Follow me. There will be no pouting in me own dance studio, unless I say so.” 

Louis led him down a series of hallways, and honestly, Harry had no idea the studio was even this large. He had no clue where he was and would be stuck in this building for hours if asked to find his way out. Louis pushed through a door towards the end of a hallway, guiding Harry in before himself. The room wasn’t big, but it was much smaller than the studio room Jacqueline had been dancing in. It was a closet of sorts, really. There were multiple racks of clothing throughout the room separated in some sort of system that Harry couldn't quite decipher. 

“Costume closet,” Louis noted as he guided Harry inside. 

Harry hummed a note of understanding. 

“We keep the costumes we reuse a lot for recitals and such, and then when competition season rolls around, we’ll get the new costumes and keep them here to do all of our fittings. That way parents don’t have to be responsible for them. We’ve found, over the years, that it works better for us if we keep them. But,” Louis passes his hand over the fabric of a couple costumes as he walks further into the closet, “we also keep a decent stock of leos around for parents if they need one.” He turns back to Harry, who had slowly trailed behind him. “We just don’t really advertise it because, well, we don’t have enough for everybody obviously, and it would be quite costly. We help where we can.” 

Louis waved Harry over to him, before gently prodding him to look through the racks. 

“I reckon Jacqueline would wear this size,” he guides Harry to a group of small leotards on a section of the rack in front of them. Louis pulled a couple of leotards off the rack. “These are all pretty simple, no extra fabric, no lace, minimal seams, soft.” He pushed them gently into Harry’s hand. 

There was a pressure and wetness of sorts pushing at Harry’s eyes, and it’s not that Harry was an extremely emotional guy, it was just that Louis’ gesture was too kind. Yet again, Louis had gone the extra mile to accommodate Harry and Jacqueline. It’s as though Jacqueline wasn’t just another child in one of his classes, but she was suddenly a child with a name and a face. A real, little girl who was having difficulties, and Louis was proving he’d do anything in his power to make sure Jacqueline could come back to dance classes. 

So no, Harry wasn’t an emotional guy; he was a man who wouldn’t cry as he held a small pink leotard in his hands. 

He wouldn’t.

He did.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” Louis murmured. 

Harry startled, he’d completely forgotten about Louis’ physical presence, even while he’d been thinking about Louis’ kind actions towards Harry’s small family. Harry reached up to wipe vigorously at his eyes, trying to hide the evidence of his mental breakdown. “What? What? No. Not at all.” He sniffed as he returned to staring at the pink fabric in front of him.

Louis had already done so much, too much perhaps, to accommodate Jacqueline’s needs. It was an extra hassle giving Harry a tour, handling Jacqueline in class, and helping Harry when need be, yet each time, Louis had stepped up. He knew nothing about Harry or Jacqueline, their life at home, the struggles Harry had daily, and yet, he had some sort of understanding in his eyes. A knowing of sorts, as if he related to Harry’s plight. 

His hand was running over a seam as he thought about whether Jacqueline could wear the leotard or not when he felt Louis’ feather light touch where his hand met the pink fabric. 

He looked at Louis, back at his hand, and then up at Louis again. He was certain his face looked all out of sorts, what with the red eyes, the tear streaks, and the now apparent shock of having Louis’ hand come in contact with his own. Louis’ hand squeezed lightly, reassuring. “Why don’t you take both of those leotards home. See if Jacqueline likes them. If she does, great. Keep both of them so she has an extra. If not, bring them back we’ll look at some more, yeah?” 

Harry nodded mechanically. What did he do to deserve this?  _ Why? _ Why was Louis doing this?

“I want Jacqueline to be comfortable, and I want her to feel like she’s just like all the other dancers in the class because she is.”

And oh, okay. Harry had said that out loud. “Thank you,” Harry managed to croak out before they left the room together.

Louis had given Harry a reassuring pat on the back before he’d left to head to the work. He and Mitch were supposed to be writing an album for a new, up and coming artist, and it hadn’t been going as smoothly as they’d planned. The artist was a pain in Harry’s arse and could never make up his mind on the type of “sound” he wanted. Harry had never in his life seen a management team who wouldn’t have just picked a sound for the young boy and moved on by this point. He’d delayed the album production and release by at least two months. Both Harry and Mitch had lost patience with the child. 

At the studio, Mitch pitched an idea to Harry before the young boy  — Johnny was his name, because how fucking original are parents nowadays  — had arrived. Mitch’s idea was stellar, it was great for a young audience, it was catchy and upbeat. They ran with the idea  — playing off Mitch’s lyric “I feel like I’m constantly playing, a game that I’m destined to lose”  —  without the young boy present, hoping that having a more developed idea of the song would catch Johnny’s attention more than the work-in-progress lyrics had. 

They’d wrapped up their day in the studio by pitching the song to Johnny who had been relatively unimpressed, but his management team had loved it and forced the song onto the album regardless of Johnny’s apathy. Harry and Mitch both considered it a proper success, considering it was the first song to actually make it on the album in weeks. What was the count at now? Four? Five? It didn’t matter, they still weren’t even halfway done with the album. 

As a celebration of sorts, Harry invited Mitch home with him to have some celebratory drinks after putting Jacqueline to bed. She’d had a good day overall, but she’d been rather exhausted when he picked her up from nursery. She’d spent most of the evening in her pile of stuffies telling each animal stories and grooming their fur until it was perfect. She’d fallen asleep in the pile after only a couple of hours. Harry probably should wake her up to eat some food, but she’d been increasingly picky with what she chose to eat. It was easier to just let her sleep. 

Harry and Mitch landed on the old couch around nine, each with a glass of wine in hand. Harry’s living room was quiet save the Fleetwood Mac vinyl that was playing quietly on the corner end table. After only a few, Harry was just buzzed enough to let his words slip a bit. It wasn’t until about twenty minutes into the conversation, while Songbird played on softly, that he really noticed what he was doing, but by the look of Mitch’s slow, creeping smirk, he’d known the exact wormhole Harry had been going down since the very start. 

“Yeah,” Mitch nodded along to whatever idiotic words had come from Harry, “This Louis guy sounds like a proper gentleman. Seems to care a lot about Jacqueline, that's nice.” A soft smile spread over Mitch’s face. Harry had loved Mitch since he’d met him five years ago, just a handful of months before Harry’s life began to spiral. He was a great guy, stellar really. He was a fabulous musician and  an even better songwriter. A great coworker really. The best friend he could possibly ask for. Mitch was usually pretty quiet, but he always had time to listen to Harry go on about any of his random whims. Mitch really listened, too. He didn’t just nod along when appropriate, he truly listened. He gave Harry sound advice when he was falling apart, and put him back in his place when he was full of shit. But more than anything, Harry loved Mitch because Mitch loved Jacqueline. Would protect her with his entire life if he could, really. Harry appreciated it, and it warmed his heart. Mitch was one of the few people he’d completely trust Jacqueline with, save his mom and sister. 

So Harry wasn’t exactly shocked that Mitch had said Louis seemed like a good person based off his treatment of Jacqueline thus far. No, Harry was much more shocked that Louis had even come up in conversation. Harry didn’t even remember bringing him up. He had no clue what he had said. What had slipped out? Harry really needed to stop drinking. 

“You seem quite smitten.” Mitch’s low murmur brought Harry out of his confused daze. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement that came with a knowing look in his eyes.

Harry scoffed, “Have no idea where you’d get that idea from.”

Harry had always been rather self-aware though. Mitch knew this. Harry knew this. Mitch knew he was smitten. Unfortunately, Harry knew it too. Didn’t mean he was beyond denying it though, at least for a while. Besides, the only thing Harry appreciated really was that Louis was so willing to work with Jacqueline when so many others had walked away at the first sign of trouble. Harry’s thoughts immediately flickered to Em leaving with just her suitcase in tow, never to be heard from again. No calls. No texts. No pictures or presents on Jacqueline's birthday. No support whatsoever. He’d fought against her trying to get his due child support, but had given up after six months. He had no idea where she was. Was she even in England anymore? Was she in the city? After six months of running for nothing, he was tired. He knew he’d have to give her up, in more ways than one. The child support wasn’t important anyway. Jacqueline was what mattered, and Harry could do fine on his own. 

Louis, though, he hadn’t ran away yet. Which, sure, wasn’t saying much because not much had happened, but there was just a peace about Louis that made Harry know he was ready to give it a try at sticking by Jacqueline. As her dance instructor. Harry had full confidence in Louis. He would do everything in his power to keep Jacqueline dancing. 

Mitch hummed, bringing Harry back into the conversation at hand, “Mate, you mentioned his ass three times in the last drink alone.”

Harry did his best to scowl at that but knew it would probably come off more like a fond quirk. “A nice ass doesn’t mean I am smitten,  _ mate.” _

And yeah, okay, it may not  _ just _ be Louis’ support that had Harry’s mind in puddles. 

Mitch nodded as he contemplated his next words. “You’re right. I’d say it was more the combination of comments on his ass, overly kind and very very very blue eyes, beautiful accent, and all the other little details you managed to remember after only meeting a handful of times that hinted a  _ bit _ at the crush you seem to be currently harbouring.” 

Harry had lied.

He hated Mitch. 

He huffed in annoyance as he burrowed further into his couch cushions. Maybe if he just disappeared into the couch, Mitch would stop discussing this.

“Mate, there’s nothing wrong with a crush,” Mitch giggled fondly. “Just make sure Jacqueline's coming first.” 

Harry’s spine straightened as he narrowed his eyes at Mitch. “Jacqueline’s always first.”

Mitch nodded, “I know. I know. Just, don’t let Louis get in the way of Jacqueline’s dance experience is all I’m saying.”

Despite the taste of alcohol on his tongue and his tipsy state he was in at the time, Harry found himself playing Mitch’s words back over and over in the coming days. He didn’t want to admit that Mitch may have been right. Louis had quickly encompassed even the smallest crevices of Harry’s mind. He’d found thoughts of Louis creeping into his work. During his lazy, unguided writing sessions with Mitch, he’d write short lyrics wondering what it would be like to do life alongside Louis Tomlinson.  _ I want you here with me, like how I pictured it, so I don’t have to keep imagining. _

In the quiet moments alone with his thoughts, he imagined what Louis would look like, curled up on a couch in joggers and fuzzy socks. It was comfortable.

And so it went for the next week, until Thursday rolled back around. 

\--

The next time Harry heard from Louis, things weren’t going as well.

Harry knew it was bound to happen eventually. Things always happened eventually with Jacqueline. Was it wrong for Harry to have hoped he could have stayed in the blissfully unaware phase with Louis for a bit longer than two weeks? 

God, had it only been two weeks?

Harry had dropped Jacqueline off at dance lessons just twenty minutes prior. He was sitting in a lovely cafe he’d found just down the road from the dance studio. It was on a quaint, quiet street with very few people in the surrounding area. Harry loved it.

The quiet was just what he needed after the week he’d had. His leather journal sat in front of him as he brainstormed some lyrics that had been swimming in his head the past couple of days. It was one of those ideas that Harry wanted to keep to himself for now, not quite ready to share the depths of his mind with Mitch. Perhaps not even sure these were lyrics he’d want to pawn off on a different artist. He did that every once in a while. He’d keep songs for himself and envision himself in the shoes of an artist, singing his own songs on stage. Nothing usually came from the songs. They just sat in Harry’s journals, waiting to be discovered. 

He had just taken another sip of his tea when he’d felt his phone begin to buzz in his pocket. 

He didn’t immediately recognize the number but answered nonetheless.

“Hello?”

“Harry?” came Louis’ thick warm accent. “Harry. Uh, hey.”

“Louis?” Harry replied. Harry did his best to push away the nerves that accompanied phone calls like these,  “Everything okay?” 

Of course everything wasn’t okay, though. He wouldn’t have called in the middle of class if everything was peachy keen. Harry knew it the moment he’d heard Louis’ voice on the other end. He’d know from the tight strain in the way Louis spoke Harry’s name. 

Louis cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Mate, I’m really sorry to do this, but I kinda need you to come back to the studio.”

Something in Harry’s gut dropped, an instant rush of disappointment. He did his best to push that out as well. It wasn’t a disappointment in Jacqueline afterall, never in Jacqueline. It was a disappointment in himself. That he’d left her alone, not able to sense something may have been off. It was the familiar feeling of grief for his daughter’s lack of a normal childhood. “What’s she doing?” he asked, shifting his focus to Jacqueline instead of the utter brokenness that resurfaced everytime he picked up the phone to calls like these. 

Louis sputtered a bit, “She just  — we had a new girl in the class today who, I think, just exasperated Jacqueline a bit. Now she’s screaming, and like, I tried to comfort her a bit. I just, I think I made it worse.” 

Harry nodded along before his words came, “Yeah.” He choked out an apology, “I’m sorry, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Don’t worry about it mate. I just thought, maybe if you came back, she may calm down?”

They said a quick goodbye before Harry was putting his book away, lyrics completely forgotten. He pushed his way out of the cafe as doubts flooded his mind, a sense of failure hanging over his head. Harry had a lot of dark, self-deprecating thoughts, voices telling him every way he had missed the mark as Jacqueline's father. They told him that Jay wasn’t normal, that he probably needed to come to terms with that fact. How could dance make anything better for her? The problem was much bigger than dance. How could Harry expect Louis to fix the problems that even he wasn’t able to fix? There would be no magic wand. He should stop looking for some cure that wasn’t there. 

A cure, what a sardonic jab at Harry’s inner thoughts. He felt a bitter taste lingering in his mouth — and it wasn’t his tea. Medically speaking, the doctors had never found anything wrong with Jacqueline. She went to all her check-ups as a baby, and she’d been fine  — even excelled in some areas. Yet his brain continued to try to fool him into thinking there would be something out there. Some switch that he could flip to would make it all stop. That would change everything for Jacqueline — make her normal. 

“There’s nothing  _ wrong _ with Jacqueline,” Harry muttered to himself. 

Jacqueline was just Jacqueline! She had quirks, but Harry had yet to find a child that didn’t have their own quirks or shortcomings. Some kids just weren’t made to be sat in a class for eight hours a day. Kids should play and move and be loud without being yelled at. Jacqueline was just one of those kids. She was introverted, really. She would rather just be in her room playing with stuffies than be in a room filled with people. 

That’s what Harry told himself as he drove back to the dance studio. None of it was new, but he couldn’t stop his internal monologue. It was so hard. He wanted to love Jacqueline the way she was. He  _ did _ love Jacqueline the way she was, but how could there not be at least a small part of him that wished she could just be  _ normal _ ? Was that so wrong of him? Was it so bad to wish his daughter  _ did  _ want a friend? To wish his daughter  _ could _ sit in a classroom for hours without being deemed a disruption? To hope against all hope that one day Jacqueline might just wake up and all of her so called “quirks” would just be gone? 

But how could he want that? His daughter wouldn’t be Jaqueline if she were like that. She wouldn’t be who she was at the core of her being if she did interact with children easily, if she could sit for hours without getting upset, if she didn’t have quirks. He loved Jacqueline. He would do anything for her. To love her. To keep her safe. To protect her. He’d give anything for her. But it didn’t matter what Harry would do if he could.  Despite all the things he’d do, his daughter would be a completely different person if any single part of her changed, even just a fraction. 

She was perfect to Harry, in spite of everything. Some days, he wanted to pull his hair out, scream, cry, or mope, but he loved her with every part of his being. He might give anything to make life easier for Jacqueline. He’d fight anyone who tried to change who she was just because she was deemed different. His heart continued to beat each morning, just for her. 

Yes, he’d surely fight for her. 

When he’d arrived at the studio, Perrie was waiting to show him to Jacqueline. Her face was soft and kind, he noticed. It was unlike the other faces Harry had seen. It was clear she wasn’t upset with Jacqueline, or even frustrated or tired. It was completely different; it was almost as if she were worried for Jacqueline, rather than annoyed by her outburst. 

She spoke softly to Harry as they walked down the hall, “Louis thought it might be best to take her to a small room by herself, to let her cool off, before bringing her back into the class if you wish to do so.” Harry nodded. “Leigh-Anne, one of our dance instructors, has been with her in the room for a bit now. She does seem to be settling some.” Perrie smiled sweetly. “She seems quite taken with Leigh-Anne’s hair. She’s got it put up in a large bun.” She chanced a quick glance at Harry before continuing, “Please know, Mr. Styles, this is not our way of dismissing Jacqueline from instruction. We would like to reintegrate her into the class whenever she is ready. We just thought it best to involve you in that process. You’re more than welcome to stay in the class as well to watch and be available if Jacqueline needs you.” 

“Thank you.” 

He was lead into the room where Jacqueline sat on the floor. She faced a wall, away from the mirror at one side of the room. Leigh-Anne and Perrie both left quietly as Harry approached Jacqueline. Harry came behind Jacqueline, lightly placing his hand on her shoulder so she wouldn’t be alarmed. 

“Mummy,” Jacqueline said in a flat tone without looking at Harry, “Know what an arabesque is?” 

“No, I don’t. What is an arabesque, love?” 

Jacqueline patted Princey's hair down where she was holding the stuffed animal in her lap. Harry had left it in her dance bag in case she needed him. “Stand on a foot and the other foot goes behind, like this.” She pushed Princey’s small legs into a similar position, showing Harry what she meant. 

Harry hummed, “That’s great, Jacqueline. Did Louis teach you that?” 

“Louis teach me that.” Jacqueline mimicked.

“Do you wanna go back to class now, Jacqueline?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Louis teach me that,” Jacqueline repeated again. 

Harry’s brow furrowed a bit in confusion, “Jacqueline, darling, do you want to go back to class? I’m sure Louis would like to have you back in class.”

“Louis teach me that,” she echoed.

Harry crouched down to Jacqueline's level, trying to see her eyes. Jacqueline’s line of site was only focused on Princey though, offering Harry no direct indication of her current thought process. “Jacqueline?” Harry whispered, “Jacqueline, can you look at mum please?” 

In moments like these, Harry always did his best to stay calm. This was new though, Jacqueline seemingly stuck in the same phrase of words. It was slightly terrifying, almost like she was broken. Unable to break out of a single train of thought. Harry didn’t have the slightest idea what had triggered it, or how to get her out of it. 

“Louis teach me that,” Jacqueline responded, while continuing to look at the stuffy in her arms. She held it with such reverence, as though it were her best friend and most prized possession. Harry sighed deeply, not sure what to do.

“Does she usually do that?” There was a quiet voice from the door. Though it came unexpected and was slightly startling, Harry instantly recognized it as belonging to Louis. 

Harry stumbled over a few words as he made his way to standing, stepping away from Jay.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Louis apologized, a small smile playing on his face. 

“She doesn’t, no.” Harry replied to Louis’ previous question, “I mean, she does repeat sometimes, but not like this, no.”

“Louis…” Jacqueline spoke again from her position on the floor. She peered up towards his voice her eyes alight with something akin to happiness, “Louis teach me that. Louis teach me how to arabesque, mummy!” Jacqueline's entire face lit up as she shifted her gaze toward Harry. She eagerly tapped Harry’s chest while she spoke, “Can I show you, mummy?” 

Baffled by the current proceedings, Harry stuttered a bit before coming to his senses. “Of course you can. Mum would love to see your arabesque.” 

Jacqueline smiled  a small private smile then placed her stuffy perfectly on the ground. Princey was sat looking at  Jacqueline. She patted Princey sweetly before standing up.

Looking away from both Harry and Louis and facing Princey, Jacqueline proceeded to push her body up onto tippy toe as her left leg fell behind the rest of her body in a beautifully straight line, her left and right arms extending to their respective sides to complete the pose. She was gorgeous, in her black leotard which Louis had provided, her black tights, and her pink shoes, showing off her pose with such a proud gleam in her eyes. She was made for this, Harry could see that, as stupid as it sounded. He knew nothing about dance. But the look in Jacqueline’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was made for this; it was what she needed. 

Harry was so proud of his baby. 

Jacqueline's toes came back into contact with the floor, and Louis was clapping right next to him. “That was great! Absolutely beautiful.” His clapping faded as Jacqueline turned to acknowledge Louis’ presence. She was beaming from ear to ear as Louis crouched down a bit, offering his hand in a high five. Jacqueline stared at his hand for a moment before turning around to pick Princey up off the floor. Harry watched as Louis chuckled softly and placed his hand back at his side. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled stupidly.

Louis’ chuckle resurfaced, “Nah, mate. I really should’ve known better.”

The comment threw Harry off a bit, but he was already so disheveled from the entire evening that he couldn’t find it in himself to ask what that meant. 

Louis proceeded to use the fifteen minutes to teach Jacqueline another position called ecarte, rather than returning to the group class. “Leigh-Anne has it covered,” Louis had responded to Harry’s inquiries. 

As the evening transpired, Jacqueline’s smile became a permanent fixture on her face. Throughout the entire ride home, she’d spoken to Princey of nothing but dance. She taught him her new positions and the terms Louis had called them. She praised Princey when he’d done the positions correctly, laughing happily and clapping her hands in the back seat of Harry’s car. It was music to Harry’s ears, seriously.

He told himself he wasn’t going to cry.

And if pesky tears were coming out of Harry’s eyes as he tucked Jacqueline into bed that night, no one had to know.But if the sound of his daughter’s laughter rang in his ears as he fell back on his bed that evening were anything to go by, then he’d yet again lied to himself. 

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Lottie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATED 5/13/18:  
> hey friends this is SUPER IMPORTANT TO READ. If you've been here before, you may find this looks a bit different.
> 
> this is a reminder that my story is in fact a work in progress. it is the first full story i've written in a decade (literally) and i'm 22, so....you do the math. i'm rusty, and as I reread and re edit, i have fixed/switched around/added quite a few things.
> 
> pleaseeeeeeeeee if you have the time or even care, take the time to re read the story once I have it updated completely. i am finally happy with the way these first 6 chapters are, so they shouldn't be changing again.
> 
> please just bare with me.
> 
> \-----------------------
> 
> SONGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:   
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkFB8f8bzbY)

“Please, Lottie, take a breath, I can’t understand a word you’ve said.” 

Louis was on the phone with his sister. It was odd to hear from her outside of their scheduled phone calls. With the distance between them since she’d moved to London two years ago, they’d always tried to make an effort to stay in touch with weekly phone calls. Usually if either had something to say, they’d wait until then to discuss it.

But this was different. It was in the middle of the afternoon on a work day. Louis was sat in his office going over a few of his evaluations for some girls who were looking to move up in classes. So when his phone had lit up with a picture of Lottie and his youngest sister, Doris, he’d picked up immediately. If Lottie was calling in the middle of her own work day, it had to be important.

Something was wrong. Lottie was crying on the other end of the line when he picked up, trying her hardest to collect herself to speak, but he couldn’t make out any words through her hiccups and short gasps. Louis’ heart clenched as he ached to hug his best friend, but he could do nothing more than speak in hushed tones, trying to soothe her as best he could. This was why he’d never wanted her to go to London in the first place. He knew the opportunity to work with Gucci was something she couldn't pass up. He never would have wanted her too. Not with Lottie having to support Octavia all on her own. It didn’t mean Louis was happy about it though. Having his sister hours away just wasn’t ideal in situations like these. When all he really wanted to do was hold her and tell her everything would be okay. 

Louis looked at the small clock on the bottom of his laptop, mentally calculating the time it would take to get to London on the next train if need be. The next train wouldn’t probably leave for another hour or so, right before rush hour really started to hit. It’d be at least late afternoon if he left for the train station now, but he was probably getting ahead of himself. 

“Lots, babe, please tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Lou — ” She broke off in a sob. 

Louis whispered, “Whatever it is, it will all be okay. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Lottie continued to cry, but after a minute or so her breathing evened out and her sobs slowed, as she seemed to collect herself a bit. “Louis, something is wrong with Octavia.”

Louis felt his heart begin to race, “What do you mean? What’s happened?”

Octavia was just over two years old now. He hadn’t been able to celebrate her second birthday in London with the rest of the family, which meant he hadn’t seen Lottie or Octavia since Doris and Ernest’s 6th birthday party in early February. The thought of Tavia being sick or worse had Louis’ mind racing back to the thought of jumping on a train to London. 

Lottie let out another a muffled cry, almost as though she were covering her mouth to hide it. “I don’t know, Lou. She’s stopped talking. You know how I’d told you she’d been getting all these new words.”

Louis hummed. He did remember. She’d been talking for the better part of a year, or at least babbling. Octavia had just started piecing together sounds into full words around her second birthday. Every phone call with Lottie, she’d update him on Octavia’s increasing vocabulary. A couple of weeks ago, she’d learned “dog” when Lottie’s neighbor had gotten a puppy. Before that it had been “doll” and before that it was “up”.

It was exciting for Lottie, as a new mum, hearing her daughter talk back to her, but it had been concerning to Louis. After seeing all his siblings grow up, helping them with just about anything under the sun, he could tell there was a difference in Octavia’s speech. Even just from what little bits of information Lottie had given him over the phone. He’d tried to mention it to Lottie around the year and a half mark when Octavia had yet to say a single word. Louis knew from experience that their siblings had at least been asking for water or food, saying jumbled up sounds resembling their siblings’ names. But Lottie had been so excited that Octavia had just finally begun to walk that Louis didn’t have the heart to press the issue any further.  

“What do you mean she’s not talking, Lots?”

“She just, I mean I didn’t tell you — ”

“Tell me what?”

“It’s been like two weeks. And she’s just slowly stopped saying things. First she wouldn’t ask for her sippy when she was thirsty. I thought, maybe, she just wanted to keep playing so she wasn’t worried about asking. But three days went by, and she hadn’t asked for it once. And then she stopped conversing with her dolls. You know she would talk to them a bit, not much you know because she didn’t have the words to say. But now she just—” 

“Just what?” 

Lottie took a deep breath, instead of answering for a moment. 

“Lou, she hasn’t spoken in two days. At all. She won’t look at me when I call her name. She just stares at her dolls. She hasn’t even been crying. It’s like—I don’t know what’s happening to her.” Lottie sounds as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump. Louis felt as though the train ride was sounding more and more likely. If his sister was ready to self-destruct at any moment, he felt a personal responsibility as the eldest sibling to be there to at least try piecing her back together. 

“Has she been acting sick at all?” Louis questioned, trying to keep his voice level.

“No,” Lottie croaked. “She seems fine. I don’t know what’s happening. She’s not talking, Lou. Why isn’t she talking?” 

“Lottie, you need to call Tavia’s doctor.”

Louis spent the next twenty minutes doing his best to coax Lottie off that cliff she sounded like she might jump head first over. She’d agreed to call the doctor and set up an appointment, and she’d stopped crying completely after about fifteen minutes. He offered multiple times to come down for the appointment, but Lottie had told him it was unnecessary. That she could take care of her own daughter. So he’d settled on promising to come visit soon.

Soon wasn’t soon enough, though. Louis knew that for sure. 

—

Louis had asked Harry to sit in the back of the studio during Jacqueline’s group classes. They agreed that was the best option for them to take. Harry would be available to calm any storm at a moment’s notice if necessary. It would save Louis a bit of trouble in having to try to learn how to navigate his way through the confusing maze that was Jacqueline all on his own. Louis was trying his best to find techniques for soothing Jacqueline, though he had found more things to put on his “Do Not Try Again” list than anything else.

That was a real list too, unfortunately. After Jacqueline’s first upset, he’d started cataloging things she’d responded to. Good or bad. He’d kept it all in his head at first, but the list grew longer each time he saw her. Eventually, it was too much to remember, so he’d started to write things down. He didn’t want to forget a single detail about Jacqueline’s reactions, no matter how small. He firmly believed that the only way to help her was to learn her responses. 

He realized very, very quickly that she did not like to be touched, especially when upset. She responded well to his praise, but physical gestures were completely lost on her. She did not wave back at Louis, and he had only tried to high five her the one time. He could turn most small situations around simply by bringing her attention back to dance, rather than focusing on whatever had gotten her in a tizzy. But getting her mind off of bigger issues was almost impossible, and those were the moments he required Harry’s assistance. 

Jacqueline was so special though. Louis loved her in the way he loved all his dance students, but there were oddities about Jacqueline that made her unique. Priceless. She was the clumsiest of the clumsy when it came to just existing. She’d trip and fall over absolutely nothing. It usually took her multiple tries to put on her ballet shoes. She’d often missed her foot completely. Other times, the shoe would come flying towards her face as it just slipped past her her foot and accelerated upwards. That was when either Harry or Louis or in the occasional awkward clash of shoulders, both of them would dive forward to stop the shoe from hitting Jacqueline right in the face. She was a mess of dangly limbs and clumsy steps, but she was so precious. 

And that’s what Louis couldn’t understand. 

Sure, she was was a handful. Yes, she was difficult to read and almost impossible to reason with. She hurt herself often and cried even more frequently. She would laugh one moment and scream the next. Be bubbly and excited to learn dance or completely shut off. She didn’t like interacting with the kids, only with Louis. She couldn’t take directions in any capacity, and yeah,  he could understand how in any structured situation, Jacqueline would be a terror to have in the classroom. She was a certified mess. But she was so loveable. Her soul was so sweet, Louis knew it the moment he laid eyes on her. She was lovely. She was happy. So, so excited to learn how to dance. Her eyes were bright, like her father’s were; a small detail Louis may have noticed. Louis would have worked through all the negatives to hear her sweet laugh or to look at her bright green eyes lighting up when she accomplished a new step. 

Louis had always had a soft spot for children, and he’d even been known to have baby fever here and there. Part of the reason his dance studio thrived was his love of children. He knew the parents could see it in him. In the way he interacted with the students. His lovable nature towards students stood in complete and stark contrast to the way he spoke with his mates, but this had never gone unnoticed by Louis. His love for all things small and cute and cuddly had always been obvious. He’d never tried to deny it once he’d come to terms with who he was. But Jacqueline was different. When he looked at Jacqueline, he felt like his heart could explode. It was something he couldn’t explain and one of the few things in recent years that had left Louis completely baffled. Maybe it was just the way he had to put extra effort in to get to know her. Maybe it was the small moments they’d had alone that he hadn’t had the chance to have with most other students. Maybe it was just because she reminded him quite a bit of Octavia in the way she was so clumsy, always tripping on her own feet. Maybe it was just because Jacqueline was perfect in the most imperfect of ways.

He had no idea, but it didn’t matter. 

So that’s where Louis found himself, teaching Jacqueline week in and week out, while Harry sat in the back of his studio writing in a mysterious leather notebook.

The notebook wasn’t of any particular interest per say. Louis just found it peculiar is all. The way Harry’s lips would twist and his brows would furrow in confusion for minutes at a time until he seemed to realize something, writing furiously in the notebook as if there weren’t ten little girls flitting around him at any given point. Not for the first time, Louis found himself wondering what it was Harry did for a living. Wondering about who Harry really was. What traits did he perhaps share with Jacqueline. There was a weight sitting heavy over his chest as he realized, not so suddenly, that he didn’t really know Harry. It wasn’t the cause of the heavy weight, it was the thought that came after that weighed Louis down: he wanted to know everything about Harry. 

—

Soon another month had passed, and suddenly, the annual winter dance recital was just three months away. It might have sounded like plenty of time, three months, and most parents made sure to express this to Louis each and every year. But in his time as an instructor, Louis had learned that three months usually wasn’t enough time to prepare small children for anything, much less a choreographed dance recital. So they started preparations early.

Only this year, Louis was drawing a blank. A quite embarrassing blank, if he had anything to say about it. Usually, Louis had all sorts of ideas swimming around in his head: costumes, songs, pieces of choreography jumbled together. All ideas that eventually helped him come to a cohesive theme for the recital, and yet this year, his mind was empty.

Well, no. That was a lie, if he’d ever heard one. His mind was far from empty; in fact, it was full to the brim/ Louis had no more room for dance choreography or costumes or music when every crevice of his brain was filled with pieces of Harry Styles. How fucking embarrassing, Louis made sure he told himself everyday that passed by. He’d developed an infatuation of sorts for a student’s father. Yet, if he wracked his brain for a new dance idea, begging himself to do his fucking job, the only thing he’d come up with was the way Harry’s hair would softly curl where it lay on his shoulders. Or a vision of the ugly red Hawaiian shirt he had worn a month ago. Which, Christ, they live in northern England  — w ho the hell even owns a Hawaiian shirt here? Yet Harry Styles went about wearing ugly Hawaiian shirts. His brain could tell you the exact shade of green Louis had decided Harry’s eyes were, but couldn’t tell you what style of music he wanted to use for the winter recital. 

It had become overwhelmingly apparent to his staff that something was off about Louis. They knew because some of them had worked with Louis for years now, since straight out of uni even. They’d come to expect him to be bouncing off the walls with ideas for the recital. Yet each question they asked resulted in the flat response of, “I’m still running me thoughts through me head.”

Which he wasn’t. Because there were no thoughts to work through.

So this staff meeting Louis was about to put on about the recital was going to go swimmingly — he was sure of it. He had no idea what to do for the recital, and he’d be completely winging the entire meeting. His current plan was to try to bullshit some idea and work from there.

From the look on Perrie’s face as they all met in one of the smaller studio rooms, she was already aware of this plan and would be calling him out on his bullshit any second now. She always did know him best. 

“Let’s cut to it,” Perrie’s thick Geordie accent snapped the silence. 

They were sat on the floor in a circle which Jade had told Louis would help their “collaborative efforts” in meetings. Louis didn’t give a shit about how they sat so he’d let her have it, and they’d sat in a circle ever since.

“Louis doesn’t have a clue what he wants to do for the recital because he’s spent the last two months of his life ogling Harry.” 

Jesy, another one of Louis’ betrayers, barked out a quick laugh before covering her mouth and apologizing to Louis. At least she was sensible, Louis noted. Her loyalty remained in question, but Louis decided to give her a pass for the moment. 

“Oi, remember who signs your paycheck, Pez.”

Perrie rolled her eyes at Louis, “Take your dramatics somewhere else. We need a recital piece for every class, and we currently have a grand total of zero.” 

She wasn’t wrong. Louis knew she wasn’t wrong. “Well we could do—”

“I swear to god, Lewis, if you say the nutcracker, I will strangle you,” Leigh-Anne broke into the mix. “You know how much I hate teaching those numbers, and they’re so overdone  — there is nothing unique about it.”

Louis scoffed, offended, “I was not going to say that.” 

In reality, he was going to say that, but they didn’t need to know that. He knew it was way overdone. And not artistically unique at all, like she’d said, and that was what he’d prided himself on with his recitals. But had he mentioned he had no ideas? Louis took a moment to accept his fate, realizing that in the last two months Harry must have affected Louis’ ability to bullshit to his fullest extent.

“Okay, Lou, honestly,” Perrie’s voice softened as she placed a hand on his thigh, “I get that you feel like you’re in some awkward position, teaching his daughter and what not.”

Louis scoffed and considered throwing her hand off his leg. “It’s not like th—”

“It is, Lou. It’s your turn to listen now. It’s not inappropriate, okay? You’re both adults. No one here is going to judge you if you pursue something. We love you, but we need you on your best game for recital season.”

From around the circle, he saw each of his friends nodding their heads and humming notes of agreement. Louis felt his body deflate. He wanted to curl in on himself and be swallowed up whole. 

“We’ve never gone through a recital without you,” Perrie continued, “and this cannot be when we start. So just,” she took a deep breath before releasing it. “Just, do whatever you have to do, so that Louis Tomlinson, dance extraordinaire, is back in the office next week.” Perrie took a moment to pat Louis’ leg softly before looking up to those in the circles, “Let’s all go home and try to bring back some ideas to help with brainstorming. We’ll meet up at the end of the week, yeah?. Next week, same time, same place.”

She waved her hands in form of dismissal, and the newest of Louis’ employees all filtered out quickly until only Jade, Jesy, Leigh-Anne, and Perrie were left. 

“He’s really sweet, Lou,” Jade whispered into the silence that had settled over the group. “Take a chance, maybe. You deserve to be happy, babe.” She threw him a sad smile. Almost like she understood how Perrie had just completely demolished any sort of normal Louis had come to accept, and left the room with Jesy in tow. 

“I can’t believe you called me out like that,” Louis let out a choked laugh. Maybe if he made this whole ordeal a punchline first, the words wouldn’t hit so close to home. Maybe, he wouldn’t feel like his throat was closing in. 

“Someone’s gotta do it, love.” Perrie ran a hand through Louis’ hair. “You know I’m right.” She stood up, grabbing her gym bag in the corner before heading to the door. She stopped in the threshold and turned to look back at Louis, “You deprive yourself too much, love. You’ve had dance as your only partner for too long, Lou.” 

She and Leigh-Anne were gone when Louis turned towards the door, doe-eyed. 

Louis’ trek back to his flat wasn’t too bad, but his mind was quickly unraveling. He’d come to the conclusion that his crush on Harry was mostly physical. Sure, he was kind and resembled a precious baby deer every time Louis did something even remotely considerate, but he didn’t really know Harry that well. He didn’t know the little things about Harry. How did he take his tea? Did he even like tea in the first place? Or was he a coffee person? Who was his favorite musician? What kind of hobbies did he have? What did he do for work? Did he like footie as much as Louis did? Or was he not really into sports? Was he good at sports, or completely uncoordinated? Maybe he liked to dance? Did he like the theatre or was he more of a cinema person? Did he drink? Smoke? Was he a socialite? Extroverted? Introverted?

Louis didn’t really know Harry. 

The problem was, with each question Louis asked himself, he longed to know Harry’s answers more and more. 

Louis liked Harry Styles. He finally admitted this to himself as he pushed the door of his flat open. He tossed his shoes in the general vicinity of his living area and toed into the kitchen. He had a crush. He was a grown-ass adult with a teenage-sized crush on the cute boy in his dance class. It wasn’t exactly like that, but the analogy felt like it fit.

Louis put the kettle on the stove, reaching up on his tiptoes to the higher cabinet for his favorite mug. It was one of those dumb starbucks cups that said London on it and had the skyline across it. The cup itself was nothing special, mass produced for tourists, no doubt, but when Lottie had moved out to London, she’d been so excited that she’d sent everyone in their family one of the mugs along with a picture of her and Octavia in their new flat. So it was sentimental, and Louis was a sap. It’s just how it was, and he’d come to accept it long ago.

Louis grabbed a pack of Yorkshire tea and placed it in his cup before walking out of the kitchen, leaving the mug on the counter and the kettle to heat. In his bedroom, Louis threw on an oversized, lavender jumper and replaced his Adidas joggers with black leggings. He realized it was quite ironic that as a dancer he wore his leggings at home for lounging and his joggers in class for dancing, rather than the opposite way around. He required his male dancers to wear leggings during class, so he found it rather snobby of himself to make a point of wearing joggers, but he liked it that way. Snobbery aside, however, Louis wasn’t too haughty to admit to the comfort of leggings or the boost they gave his ass, if he’s being honest. 

The kettle whistled, and Louis padded down the hall to the kitchen. He idly wondered what Harry’s flat looked like. Did he even live in a flat or did he have a proper house with a yard and a fence? What kind of toys did Jacqueline have lying around? Did she leave her toys astrew or did she put each stuffy meticulously in its place.               

He couldn’t allow himself to think about these small details for too long as he readied his tea. He told himself he’d find a way to talk to Harry about this, this thing he had. If nothing else, he'd convinced himself that Harry had a right to know. If, in any case, he became uncomfortable with Louis, he should probably know sooner rather than later so that he could find Jacqueline a new dance company. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but how could he know unless he asked. 

He took his tea into his living room and sat on the couch. He was going to tell Harry tomorrow, he decided. Jacqueline’s class was tomorrow, and he’d have no other time really to talk to him before the meeting on Wednesday. He’d have to have it sorted by then or Perrie would be out for his blood. So tomorrow it must be. Now, Louis reluctantly admitted to himself, he only had to find the right words to say. 

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Peter Pan references.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATED 5/13/18:  
> hey friends this is SUPER IMPORTANT TO READ. If you've been here before, you may find this looks a bit different.
> 
> this is a reminder that my story is in fact a work in progress. it is the first full story i've written in a decade (literally) and i'm 22, so....you do the math. i'm rusty, and as I reread and re edit, i have fixed/switched around/added quite a few things.
> 
> pleaseeeeeeeeee if you have the time or even care, take the time to re read the story once I have it updated completely. i am finally happy with the way these first 6 chapters are, so they shouldn't be changing again.
> 
> please just bare with me.
> 
> \-----------------------
> 
> SONGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:   
> Awake My Soul by Mumford & Sons (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pxs_p1535WE)

Harry vaguely remembered hearing something about recitals but hadn’t really comprehended what that meant for Jacqueline. Louis had given each parent a pamphlet with some of the basic details. It was in about three months, and they were to start rehearsals soon. According to the tentative timeline, classes would continue as regularly scheduled for the next two months as the students learned their choreography. When November came around, an additional Tuesday class would be added into the mix so that the final details could be perfected, and Thursday classes would be a half hour longer. The week of the recital, there would be two rehearsals — technical and dress. Parents of younger children were to attend both rehearsals to keep the kids from going crazy while the older classes practiced.   

Being new to the whole dance world, Harry had no idea that recitals would take so much time and preparation. It was going to be a bit of an adventure, seeing how Jacqueline would respond to these changes in her day-to-day schedule. It was something he’d probably have to speak with Louis one-on-one about. 

Jacqueline and Harry filed into the small studio Thursday evening for their class. A couple of girls trailed in behind them. 

Louis smiled at Harry, making his way towards them. He waved at the two girls behind them, saying a quick, “Good evening, Sophie and Juliet. Are you ready to get dancing!?” Both girls clapped and jumped excitedly, of course, and responded with a resounding yes. They ran off to the side of the room together to get ready for class. 

Louis smiled to himself as he switched his attention down to Jacqueline. “Hello, Miss Jacqueline,” he spoke so softly to her, crouching down slightly. “Are we having a good day?” 

Jacqueline nodded silently while she held a new doll in her arms. 

“Now who is this friend you’ve brought with you?” Louis tapped the doll in Jacqueline's arm. 

Jacqueline stroked the doll’s hair before answering Louis. “It’s Jacqui! She’s a ballerina just like me! Mummy bought her for me.” Jacqui wore a leotard and ballet flats just like Jacqueline, and Louis supposed it really did resemble her quite a bit. 

“Well, aren’t you just lucky to have a nice mum like that?” Louis asked Jacqueline as he glanced up at Harry shortly. 

Jacqueline nodded in lieu of a response before walking off, ignoring both Harry and Louis. 

Harry smiled as his gaze followed Jacqueline. She sat Jacqui on a bench, bending her knees and placing her hands perfectly in her lap. She muttered something to the doll before she took her backpack off and got her things ready for dance. Harry watched as she sat her water cup in line with Jacqui, and next pulled out her special dance shoes. Reluctantly, Harry pulled his gaze away and looked towards Louis. 

Louis smiled at Harry as he messed with the hem of his jumper for a moment. 

“She’s been having a pretty good day. So hopefully we won’t have any issues in class.” Harry spoke quietly, not sure what to say. He and Louis usually didn’t have little chats before class. They were typically reserved for Jacqueline's meltdowns or for notes on how her skills were improving. But Louis had already greeted Jacqueline, and he still hadn’t walked away.

Louis made a few sounds, trying to get words out yet not quite getting there. He stuttered for a moment before mumbling a few unintelligible words. Then finally, he took a deep breath before starting again. He looked up at Harry’s eyes, “I was wondering if you’d, maybe, like to,” he trailed off, unable to finish. 

Harry’s eyes softened to a deep green, and Louis thought he could look for ages without growing tired of them. “Maybe like to…?” Harry asked slowly. 

Louis was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was in a dance studio surrounded by girls and a handful of remaining parents. It was not the ideal environment for flirting or asking someone out. He nudged his head towards the door, signalling for them to step outside for a moment. Harry hesitated for a moment, looking back towards Jacqueline where she was still engrossed in her own world. Slowly, after fighting his own internal war and eventually coming out victorious, he followed Louis out the double doors and into the lavender hallway. 

“Perrie thinks I’m distracted,” Louis burst out with. “I am distracted. You’ve distracted me,” he heaved out a deep breath. “I’m afraid I’ve got no ideas for this recital, and it’s all because I can’t think of anything but you.”

Harry’s eyes bulged, “I’m so sorry,” he rushed out. 

He knew this would come. It had to have been coming all this time, but he had just been too blind to see it headed straight towards him. Louis was going to kick Jacqueline out of classes. Or maybe he would just tell Harry they couldn’t keep making special accommodations for her any longer.  Two months, that’s all Jacqueline would get out of Louis before he snapped and pushed them out. And just like Harry had feared on the day he’d come crashing into the studio fretting over leotards, it was all Harry’s fault. He was to blame for Louis’ breaking point.

“I never meant to be a distraction. I know I’ve asked a lot from you. I should have known I was interrupting, always asking these stupid questions and not even knowing how to be a proper parent.” He shook his head in horror, “I’m so sorry,” he muttered once more. “I will stop, please. Anything you need from me, just — please don’t kick Jacqueline out of class, please. Louis, I would never forgive myself.”

Harry was freaking out. He knew he was. His heart was beating through his chest, and he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. He was spiraling — his thoughts running away from him with a life of their own. 

But as Harry continued to fall into a state of panic, Louis looked similarly horrified. “What? No. Love, that’s not what — that’s not how I meant it. Not at all.” Louis’ hand came to rest on Harry’s wrist to still his shaking hands. Harry hadn’t even realized his hands were shaking, of all things. “I meant—” Louis shook his head, but Harry couldn’t understand why. “I meant, Harry, I think you are lovely. And it’s all I can think about.” 

Harry’s mouth felt dry. He opened and closed it a few times, almost imitating Louis’ state just moments ago, as he tried to wet his lips with his tongue. “Lovely?” He didn’t understand. What could that mean? Louis thought he was lovely. Harry thought Louis was lovely, too. 

Harry stared down at the place where Louis’ fingers rested on his wrist, and he felt a wave of cool air wash over him. His heart still beating too fast, but for a completely different reason now. He steadied himself with a few breaths before he chanced a look at Louis. 

“Yes.” Louis chuckled, “You are lovely. I could be stepping over every boundary that exists between us, but Harry, I’d like the opportunity to get to know you better because I,” he paused for a moment to find his words, “because I like you.” He spat the words out almost as though it were an accident, but the relief that instantly washed over Louis’ face told Harry a different story. 

“You like me?” Harry was speechless. And Louis’ fingers were still wrapped around his wrist. They burned like fire, but he never wanted Louis to let go. 

“Yeah, I do. I’d like to get to know you better, I really, really would.” 

“You like me.” Harry licked his lips again, finally feeling the moisture return to his mouth. “Well, I was going to tell you that I liked you, but well, I mean it was going to come out a bit more, uh, smooth, than this.” Harry coughed a bit. His cheeks were burning red, and Louis’ smile only seemed to grow larger with every passing moment that Harry’s cheeks grew redder. 

“I’d hate to burst Harry Styles’ bubble, but I’ve never known you to be smooth in the two months we’ve been acquainted.” Louis teased as he bumped his shoulder into Harry’s. “Now, I’ve got a dance class to teach,” Louis nodded his head towards the group of girls waiting for him. “Maybe we can discuss the exact details of this after class, yeah? Exchange numbers and all that good stuff that no one likes?” 

Harry just nodded silently, as Louis’ hand slid away from his body, lightly brushing Harry’s fingers on the way back to his own side. They each took a step away as Louis headed back to his class. After a moment Harry headed towards the back corner where he waited for Jacqueline during class. He pulled out his leather journal, and lyrics that had been begging to come out for the past two months finally spilled over. 

—

Harry felt a tap on his foot some time later. Looking up from his journal, he saw Jacqueline standing in front of him, Jacqui and backpack in tow.

“Mummy, dance is over. Home now.” 

Harry ran a hand through Jacqueline’s hair and kissed her forehead softly, giving no pause when she tried to pull away from her touch. “Just a moment, love. Mum’s got to talk to Louis about some things before we leave. Is that okay?”

Jacqueline turned around to look at Louis. She didn’t respond to Harry’s question; she simply walked towards one of the bars on the mirrored wall. Harry took that as a yes. 

“So what’s in this special book you’ve got there?” Louis inquired as he stood in front of Harry. 

Harry closed the journal, tying it carefully. “It’s my lyrics book.” 

“You write songs?” Louis asked quietly. 

“Yes,” Harry smiled up at him. “I’m a songwriter.”

“That’s, like, your job? To sit in a room and write songs?”

Harry laughed, “Well, it’s a bit more than sitting in a room, but yes. I am paid to write songs.” 

Louis hummed as his mind seemed to the mull over the new information. “About, uh, getting to know you better,” Louis moved the conversation forward, “What’s your weekend look like? I realize you’ll probably have to find a sitter for Jacqueline, and that could make it a bit more difficult.” 

“I can get Mitch to watch her on Saturday, I’m sure.” Harry pulled out his phone, “Let me get you my number, and I can let you know once I’ve had the chance to ring Mitch and see if he’s okay with that.” 

Louis just nodded as they exchanged numbers. Harry and Jacqueline were leaving the studio a few moments later as Jacqueline bounced around asking if Uncle Mitch was coming to visit soon. 

—

Jacqueline just had the chance to set out her last stuffy on the couch, as a knock sounded through Harry’s flat. 

“Uncle Mitch!” Jacqueline screeched as she ran to the door. 

Harry caught her in his arms just as she was heading past the kitchen. She kicked in his arms as she tried to get back to the floor. 

“What has Mum said about the doors?” Harry asked sternly, ignoring the door for just a moment.

“It’s Uncle Mitch!” Jacqueline complained in her most dramatic voice possible. She heaved her limbs across Harry’s body, becoming dead weight in his arms, just to up the dramatics no doubt. 

“You don’t know that. Mum answers the door and—”

“Mum only!” Jacqueline mocked as she moved her arms across her chest to demonstrate her annoyance with Harry’s rules. 

Harry sat her down on the floor where she stood still, waiting for Harry to get the door. 

Mitch appeared moments later in Jacqueline’s eyesight. “Just Uncle Mitch, see Mum.” 

Mitch chuckled a bit in response, “Hello to you too, Jacqueline.” 

Harry brought Mitch into a hug, clapping him on the back in way of greeting. “Wouldn’t let her open the door, and she’s pretending to be upset now.”

“Not pretending,” Jacqueline sassed. “Mitch come!” 

Jacqueline tugged on Mitch’s hand and drug him into their living space where every single stuffy and doll that Jacqueline owned was lined up on their couch. “Mummy has got me new friends, and I’ve got friends you haven’t met,” Jacqueline spoke completely seriously. “Some of them are shy, so they might not talk to you. It’s okay because they talk to me instead.” 

Mitch’s smile was wide as he looked back at Harry, trying his darndest not to laugh at Jacqueline’s stoick behavior. “Jay, love, before you introduce Mitch, Mummy’s got to talk to him about some things before I leave. Is that okay?” 

Jacqueline’s shoulder’s dropped a touch, “You’re not staying, Mummy?”

Harry sighed. He had talked to Jacqueline about this multiple times before Mitch had come over, but she had never grasped that Mitch was coming so that he could leave. She just continued to believe that she, Harry, and Mitch were all going to play together. 

“Thought we gonna play together, Mum.” Jacqueline murmured softly, looking close to tears.

Harry got to his knees, and gently pulled Jacqueline into his grasp. Her body was shaking, on the verge of something that would not mean good things for their night. He grabbed Princey off the sofa and placed him into her small hands. He wrapped his larger hands around her small hands, squeezing. He took a few deep breaths, hoping that Jacqueline would mimic his breathing. “We will all play together some other time, love. For now, why don’t you, Mitch, and Princey play together. Mum will be home soon, and then we can all play together.” 

She slowly nodded her head, her body responding to the light squeezes Harry was giving her arms. When her body was no longer shaking, Harry stood to speak with Mitch. 

“You have my number. I’ll try to be back sooner rather than later, yeah? I already gave her a bath, but she will probably want food in a couple of hours. If she gets upset, covering her in her blankets usually helps. If it gets bad, call me. I’ll come back.”

Mitch patted his back, “I know the drill, mate. Go on now.” And it was true. Mitch and Harry’s mother, Anne, and sister, Gemma, were the only people in his life who truly knew the drill as Mitch put it. They knew the ins and outs of Jacqueline’s personality as well as Harry knew them himself. They were the only people on the short list of those he’d fully trust placing Jacqueline in their care. 

Mitch shooed Harry out of the house, and he was off to meet Louis.

—

Louis and Harry had agreed to a showing of Peter Pan the Musical at Cast in downtown Doncaster. The show didn’t begin until seven, so they were meeting for drinks beforehand. When Harry arrived at the Doncaster Brewery, Louis was already waiting  for him outside. He was clad in black skinnies and a black tee, bright  [ red derby shoes ](http://www.ysl.com/us/shop-product/men/shoes-classic-shoes-smoking-15-derby-in-red-patent-leather_cod11265098ix.html#section=men_m_fall17) and a  [ jean jacket ](http://www.ysl.com/us/shop-product/men/ready-to-wear-casual-jackets-flamingo-embroidered-jean-jacket-in-washed-deep-dark-blue-denim_cod34753855dx.html#section=men_m_fall17) . The way the small detail in the jacket matched perfectly with his rich red shoes left Harry’s inner fashionista heart beating a little faster than he felt comfortable admitting. He’d been instantly taken with Louis when he’d seen him in his joggers and a beanie that first day at the studio months ago, but this was a completely different Louis. With no trace of his usual comfortable sweats or dancewear, he somehow still looked soft. Previously, Harry had always thought Louis’ look was akin to waking up but wanting to go back to sleep. This, however, was the look of someone who wanted to have a relaxed night out, maybe have a few drinks, and just have a good time with the lads. It was spunky — the shoes making a statement that Harry appreciated — but still welcoming. 

Louis threw a small wave in Harry’s direction as Harry approached him from the kerb. Harry himself wore a  [ blue Gucci cardigan ](https://www.gucci.com/us/en/pr/men/mens-ready-to-wear/mens-sweaters-cardigans/tiger-jacquard-wool-cardigan-p-474601X14684471?position=22&listName=ProductGridComponent&categoryPath=Men/Mens-Ready-To-Wear/Mens-Sweaters-Cardigans) that he’d got last season when he and Mitch had finished one of their latest albums. He wore a pair of black skinnies like Louis with a pair of  [ suede boots ](https://www.gucci.com/us/en/pr/men/mens-shoes/mens-boots/suede-and-lizard-boot-p-494648LUZ801072?position=2&listName=PGUS4Cols&categoryPath=Men/Mens-Shoes/Mens-Boots) that featured the same Gucci tiger on his cardigan as small golden pendants. Harry thought that he and Louis together made a nice pair. As they met outside of the pub, Louis guided Harry inside. They found themselves a table by a large window, where they could see out to the street in front of the brewery. 

They spent a few moments observing their surroundings as well as each other. The pub was mostly quiet, the soft lull of conversation spread throughout the space. The evening crowd had not yet made their way to the pub scene, as it was still early evening. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the air from the girls a couple of tables away. They each ordered drinks from a waiter who had eventually filtered over to them.

As Louis took a sip of his pint, he made the first move — breaking the lingering silence. 

“How’s Jacqueline doing?” 

“Good as can be expected.” A soft smile spread across Harry’s face. It was a proud smile. A smile he kept safe for only Jacqueline. “She was bit upset when I left. Thought Mitch was coming over so we could all play with her stuffed animals together.” 

Louis threw his head back in an open laugh. “Sounds like something she’d do. She really does love her stuffies. I’m quite certain I’m going to have to find meself a way to incorporate Princey into the recital. She never puts him down.”

Harry’s face split open with laughter of his own. His hand snapped to his mouth to cover the sound, surprising himself with how loud the sound was in the otherwise quiet pub. “I’m sure she’d love to dance with Princey if you’d let her,” he replied once he’d been able to stop laughing. “She practices her positions every day, ya know? That what they’re called, right? Positions?” Louis quietly nodded his head with a shy smile across his face before Harry continued. “Yes, she stands herself in the living room where our coffee table used to be. But it’s been pushed to the wall now so that she can dance in the center of the space. Before I moved the table, she was trying to dance on the table to get all the attention.” 

Louis laughed at that too. “That’s not safe at all, mate,” his laughter punctuated each word. “She’ll fall and split open her head with how clumsy she is.” 

Harry’s lip quirked up, revealing his right dimple as he continued fondly, “Right. It didn’t last long, trust me. She goes right in the center now, gets my attention and then says, ‘one and two three and four and five.’” He tries his best at imitating Louis’ Yorkshire accent as he goes, “and then she’ll say ‘three five, three five, and four to two, two to three, three to one.’” 

Louis’ persistent fit of giggles only made Harry’s smile grow wider. The back of Louis hand reached up to his mouth, covering his bursts of laughter as he leaned back in the chair. Harry loved the way that Louis laughed with his whole body. It was so contagious, his laughter. “But then, it’s brilliant, she starts clapping and does it all over again, with clapping each time there’s a new position. At the end of it she says, ‘beautiful work girls, absolutely stunning.’”

“No, she does not!” Louis’ cheeks were red from laughter. 

“I swear it, she does. Every day. Without fail. She does it once before nursery each morning and once before bed. Exact same, every day.” 

“Your Yorkshire accent is complete shit,” he pointed out. 

Harry huffed indignantly, “I beg your pardon? Maybe Jacqueline’s Yorkshire accent is just shit, and I’m imitating her shit accent.” 

Louis straightened his face, nodding seriously at Harry, “Of course, mate, whatever you have to tell yourself.” His expression broke only moments later, and he was laughing once again. It stirred a prickling of pride in Harry’s chest, knowing he was able to pull out Louis’ laughter. “I can’t believe she repeats every word I’ve said during exercises. She’s brilliant, that one.” 

Harry nodded seriously, his expression fond once again. “She is,” he agreed. “She’s so smart,  the most brilliant daughter a dad could ask for. Doesn’t stop the teachers from kicking her out of their nurseries though,” Harry sighed deeply. “I just don’t know what to do sometimes, really. I do my best, always my best. I work hard to provide for us. I mean, Mitch and I write a lot of bad songs before we write good songs. But that’s not a problem really because once you make a song that's a hit, all the work pays off. We’ve had the chance to work for some big people in Britain and some in Ireland as well, and so we are lucky really. But sometimes, I just wonder if it’s my fault, yeah? If there’s something I did in the process of raising her that made her turn out the way she is. And I tell myself there’s nothing wrong with her, but I mean there’s no denying that she’s not...normal.” 

“What is normal,  _ really _ ? No one fits a specific mold of what’s acceptable and what’s not.” Louis placed his hand on the table top. He reached towards Harry, but didn’t make contact. “You’re being too hard on yourself. Jacqueline is a wonderful girl.”

Harry scoffed a bit, “Am I? You only see her at her best, really. You don’t see the fights we have just to get her into her uniform each morning. You’re not around when she rips her sheets off her bed because they itch. You’ve seen her throw a tantrum, sure. You’ve seen her upset, but it goes so far beyond all of that. There’s so many little things that can go wrong. A normal child would adapt or maybe be upset for a moment before adjusting. For Jacqueline any small deviance from a plan is detrimental to the rest of her day.” Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “I’m sorry. You didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t mean to constantly be bringing up my complaints each time we speak.” Harry smiled weakly. “This isn’t exactly the first date conversation you probably wanted.”

This time Louis did make contact. He smoothed his hand across Harry’s where it rested on the table. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I told you I wanted to get to know you, didn’t I? This is included. Complaints and all. I want to know who you are.” There was a soft reassuring squeeze before Louis’ warmth left Harry’s hand feeling naked. 

From there, the conversation took a lighter turn and flowed easily through another pint before they both agreed they should be heading to the show. They made the short walk to the Cast side by side. The September air was colder than usual, and Harry found himself wishing he’d worn a coat on over the cardigan. He really wasn’t ready for winter to start, as much as he loved bundling up in his coats. Harry’s hands tapped on his legs repetitively as they walked, trying to keep his blood moving in hopes of staying warm. It only took Louis two blocks to pick up on the movement. Louis’ hand swept over Harry’s as they walked. Harry’s heart skittered at the apparently accidental contact, but only four steps later, Louis’ hand was right back next to his, squeezing Harry’s shaking hand for a moment before grasping it lightly.

They held hands like that for the remainder of their walk. 

—

Harry’s shoulder bumped repeatedly against Louis’ when they exited the theatre, Harry in a fit of  laughter. 

“Are you quite finished!? I do not look like Peter Pan!” Louis huffed as they walked down the street. He wasn’t entirely sure where they were going, and by the look of Harry’s squinted eyes, he didn’t know either. 

“This won’t do. What’s the matter with you?” Harry giggled into his hand.

“Do not finish that sentence.”

“All it takes—” Harry broke out in laughter again, his entire body shaking with it.

“If there’s to be a second date, you’ll stop right now, Harold.” Louis was doing his best to look petulant but through his squinting, Harry could tell he really wasn’t upset at all. 

“Is faith and trust, and a little pixie dust!” Harry finished. He gripped Louis’s hand suddenly, lifting it into the air. He ran ahead, dragging Louis with him for a moment, before jumping at the end and sang, “You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!”

As Harry’s feet came back to the ground, Louis ripped his hand from Harry’s, squeezing his arms to his chest and doing his best to save face. “You just think you’re the cheekiest lad, don’t you?” He huffed.

Harry giggled, pulling Louis’ hands from his chest. He drew Louis closer, and Louis followed, only slightly reluctant. As Louis’ chest came flush to Harry’s, he leaned over to whisper to Louis in a singsong voice, “When there’s a smile in your heart, there’s no better time to start. Think of all the joy you’ll find, when you leave the world behind. And bid your cares goodbye, you can fly.” His smile was soft and private, for Louis’ eyes only. 

Louis’ eyes fluttered to where their hands were joined, his forehead hit Harry’s chest as he gazed at the ground. And then, so softly that Harry was only sure it happened because of the heat against his chest from Louis’ breath, “There it is, Wendy. Second star to the right.” 

It was such an odd feeling, Louis’ forehead against Harry’s chest. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on Harry and surely couldn’t be lost on Louis either. With such few private interactions with each other, Harry hadn’t expected to be quite so fond quite so fast. But the feeling that bubbled up in his chest as he felt Louis’ breath against his chest told a different story. 

Blue met green as Louis lifted his head, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, a smile flickered in his eyes.

Louis placed his hand on the nape of Harry’s neck, where his fingers ran methodically through Harry’s hair. “I guess that makes you Wendy.”

“I think I can manage that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated because I need continual validation in my life.
> 
> Don't for get to talk to me on tumblr :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Mitch have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATED 5/13/18:  
> hey friends this is SUPER IMPORTANT TO READ. If you've been here before, you may find this looks a bit different.
> 
> this is a reminder that my story is in fact a work in progress. it is the first full story i've written in a decade (literally) and i'm 22, so....you do the math. i'm rusty, and as I reread and re edit, i have fixed/switched around/added quite a few things.
> 
> pleaseeeeeeeeee if you have the time or even care, take the time to re read the story once I have it updated completely. i am finally happy with the way these first 6 chapters are, so they shouldn't be changing again.
> 
> please just bare with me.
> 
> \-----------------------
> 
> I don't really have relevant songs for this chapter, but this is what I've been listening to:  
> Perfect (Stripped) by One Direction: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Czpmjf8P_p0)

When Harry arrived home, Jacqueline was curled up with her stuffed animals, asleep on the couch. Mitch sat in an armchair next to her, watching a show on the telly that looked to be something akin to Downton Abbey. Harry chuckled quietly at the sight of Jacqui, Jacqueline’s new doll, sitting on Mitch’s lap. No doubt, Jacqueline had been playing some sort of game with Mitch and had fallen asleep in the middle of it. The fact that Mitch hadn’t removed Jacqui from his lap, of course, was purely coincidental. 

At the sound of Harry’s footsteps, Mitch glanced up. Placing Jacqui securely on the ground, Mitch stood to meet Harry halfway between the kitchen and the living space. 

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t want to move her off the couch once she had fallen asleep,” Mitch whispered. 

Harry waved his hand to say it was fine, “One night on the couch won’t ruin her.” 

“So, how was it?” Mitch smiled. 

They meandered into the kitchen silently as Harry threw his cardigan across a barstool. Mitch readied the kettle for tea, as Harry got two mugs from the cupboard. Mitch reached around Harry to grab the milk from the fridge, right as Harry moved to get the sugar. Together they worked in the kitchen like two pros who’d had tea with each other one too many times. 

“We got drinks and then saw Peter Pan,” Harry voiced, responding to Mitch’s earlier question. 

Mitch hummed, pouring a splash of milk into his cup. He put the milk in before the tea, and Harry never could get past the treacherous act. “And how was that?” he urged quietly. Although Jacqueline was in the room over, the calm atmosphere still lingered. 

Harry busied himself with grabbing a spoon for each of them and a box of biscuits to go with the tea. “It was–” Harry paused for a moment. “Adequate,” he settled on. Harry’s eyes landed on the cupboard door that had a loose handle he’d been meaning to fix for months now. 

Mitch’s body jerked forward as he tried to hold in the roar of laughter at Harry’s response. “Adequate?” Mitch gasped, “Mate this was either the worst date of your life, or you’re lying to me because you don’t wanna talk about it.”

Harry huffed in response, “Yeah, well,” Harry sputtered about a bit. “Maybe it’s none of your business.”

“Get out with it. You know I’m not leaving until you talk about this. You’ve been pining silently for two months over this lad, so tell me what happened.”

The kettle whistled in a desperate attempt to save Harry from the conversation. He continued to ignore Mitch, pouring tea for each of them. Harry added a splash of milk and one sugar to his tea. Tea wasn’t even his most preferred beverage, but if it kept him from dealing with Mitch’s questions for an extra moment, he’d drink cuppas for the rest of his life. 

When Mitch had allowed sufficient time to both prepare tea, sip tea, and respond, of which Harry had only done the first two, he kicked Harry’s shin not so lightly. “Mate, it’s me, come on. If you don’t tell me now, it will come out in a song next week, and we all know that will be more embarrassing.”

He was right there, Harry had to admit. While Harry was a wonderful songwriter, he was pretty terrible at processing his feelings. And when his feelings sat unfettered in his mind, they eventually leaked into his and Mitch’s writing sessions and became some of the worst songs Harry had ever written. Those were among the short list of writing sessions Harry wished he could forget all together.

Following a bit of a rough patch in his relationship with Em, Harry had written the lyric 'only time will tell if we stand the test of time'. It was one of his earliest sessions with Mitch, and he had promptly rejected it, telling Harry not only was that idiotic but also quite possibly the worst lyric he’d ever heard. Harry had to agree. 

And when Em had left him alone with Jacqueline, Harry had written the lyric ‘hole in the middle of my heart like a polo’ _. _ Mitch had also made fun that one, but the line had still ended up in a song for a popular boy band that they tended to give some of their shit songs too. So really, Mitch couldn’t talk about that one, even if he knew it was on the list of Embarrassing Lyrics by Harry Styles. 

Weeks before asking Em to marry him, he’d written the lyrics ‘I would walk through the desert, I would walk down the aisle, I would walk through the ocean just to see you smile’ _.  _ Mitch promptly told Harry he was an arsehole for walking down the aisle with someone just to see them smile. Harry had to admit, he was probably right. He’d never given Mitch the satisfaction of knowing that though. The song had been thrown out during the next writing session. 

When Jacqueline had turned two, Harry had written the song, “What Makes You Beautiful,” which ended up as a love song for a boy band as well but was actually just written about his love for his daughter. Mitch hated the song which Harry had pouted over for a few weeks. “It’s just fucking stupid Harry. If she doesn’t know she’s beautiful, and that’s why she’s beautiful, then writing a song telling her she’s beautiful means that she now knows she’s beautiful and is therefore no longer beautiful.” Harry didn’t write his songs for fucking logic, thank you, Mitch. 

All of this to say, sometimes Harry wrote stupid lyrics. And sometimes, they made it into songs, and other times they didn’t. But if he refused to talk about Louis with someone, he’d be writing love sick, doe-eyed lyrics for a boy he’d only been on one date with and that was just embarrassing. Maybe a lyric like ‘don’t know how you taste when there’s smoke in your perfume _ ’,  _ which was definitely not an unfinished lyric he’d already been working on about Louis Tomlinson. It was also not a lyric that was in the works of becoming a full song after some editing.

Harry sat his tea on the worktop, sighing, “He was lovely, really.” 

Mitch smiled fondly, “Well, you do deserve lovely things.” Harry’s chortle of laughter followed Mitch’s confession. “No, I’m serious, mate. After everything you’ve been through and how hard you work, you deserve some good things.” His eyes were soft now, examining Harry’s demeanour. “You should be happy.”

Harry protested, “I am happy, Mitch.” 

Mitch shook his head, not even letting Harry continue that thought. “Jacqueline is wonderful and the light of your life, no one can deny that. Yeah, she brings you happiness, but Harry you can’t deny that this isn’t what you wanted for your life. This isn’t your whole picture. You were created to love someone, H. You know you were.” Mitch blew out a large breath, “God, I hate saying shit like this. I hate being the guy that writes love songs and believes all the poetic romantic shit, but it’s true. Jacqueline’s an integral part of your life and will obviously be your pride and joy, but you deserve so much more. She’s enough, sure. But Harry Styles deserves more than ‘enough’. I know you’re lonely. I know it’s hard to carry everything on your own. You never asked to be the single father. The Harry Styles I’ve known for the past five years has always wanted to be someone’s partner and a father. You just haven’t found your other half to share the burden with. And you deserve that. You deserve true and complete happiness. Not just bits and pieces of happiness with Jacqueline. Not just broken fragments that Em left you with. You deserve a full mosaic of happiness.” Mitch sighed rubbing his free hand over his eyes. “I’m not saying it’s Louis. I clearly don’t know that. I’m saying, you have to give yourself a chance to be fully happy. Don’t let Jacqueline, or your worries about Jacqueline, be a hindrance for your personal growth. You have to come first sometimes, H.” 

********Harry was staring resolutely at his feet as they scuffed the hardwood floor of his kitchen. “I was happy,” Harry whispered, “Tonight, I mean.” Harry chanced a glance in Mitch’s direction. Mitch was looking at him like he was broken; Harry hated that. He hated being the person his friends worried about. “Happier than I’ve been in a while. Felt like a proper teenage idiot.” 

Mitch laughed at that. “Feels good, being in love.” 

Harry hummed, considering. “Be a good lyric,” he mumbled in the end. 

Mitch rolled his eyes, “Hate it when you do that. Turn my words into lyrics.” 

Harry let out a small yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, how bout. I’m tired, and you should be headed home anyway.” 

Mitch shook his head, “No way, man. You’re not fake yawning your way out of this. Come on, I’m your best friend, I deserve the dirty details.”

Harry scoffed, “There’s nothing dirty to discuss, Mitch. And you know I’d never on god's green earth discuss those with you if there were.” 

Mitch shrugged, “Fair point.” He gently bumped his shoulder with Harry’s before continuing, “Come on. Where’d you go. What’d you do?”

“I need something stronger than tea,” Harry muttered as he rolled his eyes. “You’re a pest.”

“And you’re such an avoider. We aren’t gonna live forever, so please tell me before we die.”

“We got drinks and went to a play. Peter Pan.” 

Mitch hummed. “That does sound lovely,” he replied using Harry’s words from earlier. “But you already told me that bit, so on with it.”

A small smile graced Harry’s face. He placed his cuppa on the counter, and hopped up next to it. “Mitch, he is so gorgeous. I’ve never seen anyone quite like him.”

Mitch smile, his eyes soft as he looked at Harry.

“I mean, he has ever characteristic the right man could possibly have. It’s so fucking cliche that it’s stupid. I mean for heaven's sake he has blue eyes, Mitch. Blue. He’s a dancer, and he’s so fucking fit. It makes me want to scream everytime I see him. He’s gentle, but he has this cutting humor that can break any amount of tension or awkwardness. He makes you feel comfortable the moment you’re in his presence. Just sitting with him, he makes me feel like I’m meant to be next to him for the rest of my life. Like I’d give him everything, or give up everything, if he just asked me too.”

“Now that’d make a nice lyric,” Mitch teased.

Harry scowled a bit, “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, H. You sound in love and it’s only been one night. You might be in a bit of trouble.”

Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair, “Honestly, Mitch, I think I am. I’ve never felt this way about someone. I’ve never let someone this close to me this fast. It’s never felt like someone has just reached into my chest and rip my heart out of my body without me first giving them permission to do so.”

Mitch nodded in some form of understanding. Harry could tell Mitch wasn’t entirely on the same page as him. He was considering something, and Harry thought he knew what it was. It was something he’d been considering for the past two months. Mulling over, trying to understand how different things felt now then they had years ago. 

“With Em, it took me so long to even let her in a bit. I was so hesitant with her, and in hindsight obviously now I see why. But in the moment, I held everything so close to my chest until, slowly I started allowing her to have small pieces of me. Louis never asked, Mitch. And I never gave him permission. He just took it. In one night, hell the first day I met him at the dance studio really. He just reached in and took every part of me there was to take. And it’s like I belong to him now, like I’m just waiting for his say so. Waiting and waiting until he makes a move too.”

“He already has though, H,” Mitch interrupted, stopping Harry’s train of frenzied thoughts. “He asked you out, and that's the first step. All the rest of the steps follow this one. Just slow down. Let it happen how it happens, and soon there will be a second, and a third, and fourth, and tenth date. We’ll get so bored of talking about him, and Jacqueline won’t want me to babysit her anymore because she’s tired with me.”

Harry’s heart beat a bit faster at the idea of a tenth date, of so many dates they couldn’t even count how many there’d even been. Slowly, he smiled, allowing himself to imagine a future with Louis even for just one moment. “I hope so, Mitch.”

Mitch nodded, pulling Harry down from the countertop and into a hug. “Allow yourself to be happy, H, and amazing things could happen.”

Harry simply nodded against Mitch’s shoulder as Mitch placed his empty cup in the sink. 

“Anyway, thanks for letting me see Jacqueline.” 

Harry smiled, his mind coming back to the present, “Course, she loves seeing you. Favorite uncle, you.” Harry released him from their hug and gently placed his mug in the sink next to Mitch’s.

Harry walked Mitch to the front door. “See you Monday?” Harry questioned.

Mitch nodded, “Bright and early.” 

Harry waved as Mitch left their flat, ready to wrap himself up in his blankets and sleep. Harry locked the front door and made his way into the living room to check on Jacqueline. After closing the blinds that lined the wall, Harry kissed Jacqueline’s forehead and padded down the hall into his room. 

If Harry fell asleep to thoughts of Louis Tomlinson’s laugh, well then, that was just a secret he’d have to keep to himself. 

—

It was Thursday when Louis found himself in a frenzy. He wasn’t quite ready to die, but he’d already accepted his fate. It was his last night as a living man, and he’d better enjoy it because come tomorrow Perrie Edwards was going to have his head on a silver platter. 

His date with Harry had gone well, was on the verge of magical as idiotic as that sounds. And he’d wanted nothing more than to see Harry out on a second date, but it seemed he wouldn’t get that chance. Not with Perrie after him anyway. His date with Harry, while it brought an end to his miserable pining, had not in fact cleared his head as much as he’d hoped it would. His mind was still on a never ending loop dedicated solely to Harry, but now it had perhaps become even more distracting. Just the sheer knowledge of knowing what it was like to take Harry out was enough to send his mind spinning.

All of this to say, Louis still had no ideas for the recital.

And Perrie was going to kill him tomorrow.

And this was the exact moment when Louis decided that despite Harry being the source of his troubles, Harry may also be his only way of escaping inevitable death. Harry and his leather journal, which Louis hoped was full of sweet songs Louis could use at a recital for a bunch of little ballerinas. It was his only idea, and it wasn’t much to go off. 

And that’s why, two hours prior to Jacqueline’s scheduled dance class, Louis was calling Harry hoping to the heavens that he wasn’t busy. His fingers shook as he found Harry’s newly minted contact in his phone. It wasn’t that he hadn’t talked to Harry at all in the past week, in fact he had talked to him an embarrassing amount. But he’d never had much of an agenda when speaking with Harry. It had always been sweet conversations with no real purpose, but this was completely different. He was intentionally calling Harry to ask him for a favor. In no way did Louis warrant a favor from him. It was on the heels of his love for his daughter that Louis was praying Harry would help him. That he’d see his distress, take pity on him, and help him find the right sound and song for the main recital piece. Everything else would follow, as long as Louis could get the biggest number for his oldest, professionally dancing class set in stone. 

The phone rang, and Harry picked up on the third ring. 

“Hello?” 

“Harry?” He questioned, already knowing from the slur of his word that it was indeed Harry. 

“Louis.” Harry stated in the same slow rhythm. 

“Hi,” Louis let out a short breath. 

Harry chuckled softly, “Hi. Did you need something?”

Louis hummed, “Actually, yeah.” 

There was a pause across the phone that had Louis wondering if Harry was nodding his head, expecting Louis to see him. Only moments after this thought entered his head, Harry all but confirmed it, seemingly shaking out of his trance. “Oh! Right,” Harry remembered his words, “What can I help you with?”

“Well, you know how we have the annual recital coming up?”

Harry hummed his confirmation. 

“And how we’re supposed to start teaching those dance routines in two weeks?”

Harry hummed again, coming out more confused this time, rather than a confirmation.

“Well, the thing is, I don’t have any choreography to teach.”

Harry didn’t hum this time, instead asking, “What do you mean?”

Louis coughed uncomfortably, “I mean, I was supposed to have all of the choreography, songs, costumes, and set ideas ready last week, a couple days before our date actually. And right now, I have nothing.”

“That doesn’t sound good, Lou, but I’m not really sure where I come in. I don’t know anything about dance.”

Louis begged his brain not to process the nickname Harry had just bestowed upon him. This was not the time for tomfoolery, Louis. “But you know something about music, yeah?”

Harry laughed, “Well, I’d hope so, or I’ll be out of a job real soon.”

Louis loved the sound of Harry’s laugh, but right now, it did nothing to soothe him. “Right, well, I was hoping you could, like, write me, or the studio, I mean, a, uh, song?” 

If Louis hadn’t sounded so unsure of himself, Harry probably would have laughed at his stuttering, maybe made a joke about sounding like him. But he did sound so unsure of himself, so nothing came through the phone except, “A song?”

“Yeah, like, my thought was that you could maybe write a song I could choreograph for our big finishing number for the most advanced class and that the rest of the classes could dance to instrumental songs that lead up to and kind of fit with the one that you write?” When Harry didn’t respond right away, Louis jumped in again, “We would pay you for it of course!”

Harry did laugh at that, “You don’t need to pay me, Lou.”

“No, really, we would pay for it. I wouldn’t want you to have to write something and put it together and not get paid when that’s your job, to do songs.” 

“It’s a little different, writing a song for my own daughter’s dance recital. It’s like parental obligation; you don’t get paid for it.” 

Louis sighed, slightly frustrated, “I don’t want you to feel obligated, really. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I just didn’t really know who else to ask.”

Harry huffed, “No, it’s fine. I think I already have some songs finished anyway that I don’t want to sell. I could come by the studio early and play my ideas for you, if you don’t have another class.” 

Louis’ breathed a sigh of relief, wiping his forehead that he hadn’t realized was sweating due to his nerves. “Yes, please.”

Harry sounded like he was holding back a laugh when he finally composed himself enough to reply, “Any style of music you want specifically?”

“Our most experienced dancers are in a classic ballet class, so most likely something soft and smooth that could be danced to elegantly.”

“Elegant slow song, got it. Lucky for you, I just so happen to specialize in sappy ballads.” 

“I think this warrants you a third date,” Louis responded, cheekily. 

“Third? I wasn’t aware we’d had a second?” 

“Oh, there'll be a second, but we’re also having a third.” 

“I’m okay with that, I think.” Harry laughed, and Louis imagined the way his cheeks dimpled and his eyes lit up like the summer sky. “So, I’ll see you in an hour?”

“See you then, and thank you again, Harry, really. You are going to save me from the angry clutches of Perrie Edwards.” 

Harry laughed again, this time unable to contain it in a small laugh, “You haven’t even heard what I’ve got for you yet, so maybe hold out on the saviour talk till then, yeah?”

“Will do,” came Louis’ response. And with that, the line went dead. 

—

Everyone always assumed writing songs came easily. That a song came together in minutes with perfect lyrics, a seamless melody, and wonderful cohesion. The public understanding of songwriting was completely misconstrued. Somedays, words came out with little effort. Themes for songs were well developed, and Mitch and Harry were on the same wavelength. Other days, the process took hours for just a full chorus. Some days, Harry and Mitch would leave the studio without a single usable lyric or melody. 

So when people inevitably come to Harry asking for songs, it generally went about like it did with Louis. They were expecting a song out of Harry within the day. Harry had plenty of unreleased, finished music, but most of that music was unreleased for a reason. It was either not worth selling, or it was too personal and therefore invaluable to Harry. With Louis, though, Harry was willing to relinquish control of  a few songs for Jacqueline’s sake. 

In fact, he had a few songs in mind; he just had to get up the nerve to sing them in front of Louis. When Harry told Louis he specialized in sappy ballads, it hadn’t been a lie. Harry almost exclusively wrote love songs, and the prospect of singing a love song to Louis was a daunting task. Not to mention that Harry wasn’t a singer. He sang, yes, but he sang only as a necessity for his job so that he and Mitch could hear songs while they were being created. That’s how it went, Harry sang the lyrics while Mitch played the melody on guitar. It was the way their little team worked. But Harry wasn’t a professional, not in that area at least. But for Jacqueline, Harry was determined to get through it. It was the curse of parenthood. So, determined to not let Jacqueline down, Harry grabbed his guitar case and his leather notebook, packed them and Jacqueline into the car, and headed for the dance studio. 

They ended up in a small studio room in the back, the three of them, where Louis encouraged Jacqueline to dance around the studio as much as she liked. While Jacqueline ascended into her world of dance, Louis and Harry sat down in the far corner and Harry began tuning his guitar. Harry smiled up at Louis as he sat across from him. “Haven’t played this guitar in a while to be honest. Mitch usually plays the guitar at work. I play sometimes, just messing around, but I don’t have much need to play at home. Jay used to love listening to me play before bed. She grew out of it about a year ago though, quite sad really.” 

Louis nodded, “I can understand that. Same way with me and the studio room I had set up at home. Have hardly used it either.”

Harry let his mind linger on what Louis’ home might look like. He wondered if it was soft and comfortable just like Louis, or if it had a new, modern kind of look that would feel cold until Louis walked into the room. He could invision both fitting Louis and his style perfectly.

With his guitar all tuned up, Harry pulled out his book and opened it to the first song he had prepared. “Now, I have three songs I think could work for what you want. I have a favorite, but I want to wait to see what you have to say about them first.”

Louis nodded his understanding and urged him to get started, “Out with it now Styles, come on. Give me the show I’ve been waiting for.”

Harry did his best to not laugh, and began strumming an upbeat tempo instead. Jacqueline’s laugh harmonized in the background, completely unaware of the other two in the room. Louis’ attention focused in on Harry as his raspy voice hit Louis square in the chest. 

“Tell me something, tell me something, you don’t know nothing, just pretend you do.” The tempo held steady, but Harry felt his face slowly twist into the sweet sort of nostalgia that was common when singing his most personal songs. He hit the chorus of the song, and Louis looked on in awe. “Almost over, had enough from you. And I’ve been praying, never did before. Understand I’m talking to the walls. I’ve been praying, ever since New York.” 

The song ended with a short guitar riff that Harry fumbled his way through a bit and then the same rhythm it began with, and Louis’ face fell a bit with the last strum of the guitar. Harry wondered if he was sad the song had ended or if the song didn't quite hit the mark. But the look of wonder that he was sure he’d seen in Louis’ yes just moments before wouldn’t make sense if that were the case.

Louis gave Harry an encouraging smile, putting Harry’s doubt at ease. Harry placed his attention on the book in front of him and flipped some pages before settling on the next song. 

Harry glanced up at Louis and nodded his head. He began again, with a different strumming pattern. This one much softer, less abrasive, than the last. “Same lips red, same eyes blue, same white shirt, couple more tattoos. But it's not you, and it's not me.” As Harry continued to sing, his eyes ventured to his daughter in the background. She wore her simple black leotard, pink tights, and shoes. Her unruly, curly hair was pulled into a tight bun, with a few flyaways coming free, and he smiled. This was one of those songs that Harry hadn’t sold because it pained him to even think about. If he looked at Jacqueline too long, he would see her mother. Logically, Harry knew that Jacqueline resembled himself more than she did Em, what with the curly hair and clumsy limbs. Harry saw the small, intimate parts of Jacquelene that resembled her mother though. He assumed every parent saw pieces of themselves and their counterpart in their children. Jacqueline’s nose curved in the same way Em’s had. Her smile resembled that of Em’s as well. 

Harry had tried and tried again to convince himself he’d been stupid with Em, that he’d trusted her when he shouldn’t have. Maybe he fell too quickly or too hard. He seemed to do that often. He spent so many hours after she’d left telling himself that she was horrible. He and Jacqueline were better off without her. Yet if he looked at Jacqueline too long, he’d see Em, and his heart would break all over again. “Tongue-tied like we've never known, telling those stories we already told, ‘cause we don't say what we really mean. We’re not who we used to be, we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.” Harry tried not to focus on the way his voice cracked on the word heartbeat, or on the way Louis looked broken just looking at Harry. It was the same look Mitch had given him the other day when he’d tried to convince him he was happy. It was the same look his mum had given him when she’d learned of Em’s absence. 

The day Em walked out on them, Harry had thought his heart had stopped beating. He’d thought he would never be able to move forward. Somehow though, having a child who required extra attention brought him back to reality. And he threw himself into writing songs to process the pain and taking care of Jacqueline to process the love he still felt. And eventually, he had come out on the other side. It took time, but he had. He’d put himself back together, but people still must think he is broken. 

Harry’s eyes flickered away from Louis. He was sat in front of the most handsome man, with the most understanding of eyes. And he thought he was lucky to just be in his presence, even if Louis did look at him in that way.  

Maybe Louis would want to discuss the songs. The lyrics and meaning behind them, but Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to do that. Each one of these songs, while beautiful in their own right, opened wounds in Harry’s heart that he’d rather not revist.

The second song came to an end, and again Harry shuffled some papers in his notebook and came to settle on a page. “Okay,” he spoke softly, “This is the last one.” 

Harry began the song and there was an wild hint of wonder to the song. It was slow and languid, like Harry himself. And maybe that’s why Harry had never sold this song. He sang the first note of the song, “Just stop your crying, it’s the sign of the times.” Jacqueline squeal in the background. Harry assumed she was enjoying something dance related, but moments later he was proven wrong when Jacqueline plopped down next to his guitar. She clapped happily as he continued singing. 

Harry smiled down at his only daughter, a hint of pride in his eyes. Just moments later Jacqueline sang along with Harry, her high pitch somehow managing to harmonize almost perfectly with Harry, even at her young age. “We never learned we’ve been here before. Why are we always stuck and running from the bullets?” She stumbled over a few of the more difficult words, but it was clear she knew the song by heart. Harry looked at Jacqueline again as he continued to sing, now directed at her. “Remember everything will be alright. We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here.” Again, like clockwork Jacqueline sang the next part with Harry, and Harry wondered if Louis’ heart melted at the sound of Jacqueline’s voice like his own did. 

The song faded and Harry had actually teared up a bit as Jacqueline sang with him, a hint of happiness shining back at his daughter. He pulled his guitar away from his body, and pulled Jacqueline towards himself, kissing her cheek. Jacqueline pushed him away in protest, “Mum, stop.” 

Harry set her back down and sent her dancing away, as he wiped his eyes as surreptitiously as possible. “Sorry,” he looks towards Louis, “She wrecks me when she sings like that. I doesn’t happen very often anymore.” 

Louis squeezed Harry’s leg a bit in support, smiling sweetly up at him. 

Harry cleared his throat.

“Enough of that,” Harry waved his hand in the air, “What do you think?” 

Louis smiled, “They were wonderful. Kinda wanna know who broke your heart and where to find ‘em, but they were truly beautiful songs. You are so talented, Harry.” 

“Well I don’t know about that, but thank you.”

“It’s true, love,” Louis insisted. He squeezed Harry’s leg once more, leaving his hand lying on Harry’s thigh as he moved a fraction closer to Harry’s own body. Harry had to force himself not to stare at Louis’ hand on his leg. “Now, I know I only said I wanted one song, but I loved the first song about New York, yeah, and that last song you just sang.”

“Take them. Both of them,” Harry said, perhaps a bit too eager to please. 

“Well, I would love to have one of my intermediate classes dance to the first song, and then have that last song as a big finale moment.” Louis paused for a moment before continuing, “I would really love it if you and Jacqueline could sing that song together on stage.”

Harry laughed softly, “What?” he asked, shocked by the proposition. 

Behind them, Perrie knocked on the studio door before slowly opening it. She waved at Jacqueline before addressing Louis, “Sorry to interrupt, but your class starts in five, and well, you told me to interrupt you so, actually, I’m not sorry.”

Harry laughed before Louis responded, “Thanks, I’ll be there in two seconds.” 

Perrie nodded and was out of the room quicker than she’d come in. 

Louis looked back at Harry and smirked, “I think you heard me, so I won’t repeat it. But, we could talk about it over dinner after class if you are up for it.” Louis noticed Harry’s instinctive reaction to glance nervously towards Jacqueline. “All of us: you, me, and Jacqueline. We can go to her favorite place, wherever she wants.” 

Harry’s smile was small, but he reluctantly agreed.

Louis stood up and reached for Harry’s hand to help him as well. “Good, because I don’t know if you could tell from my incessant text messages this week, but I’m kind of needy.” 

Harry barked out a laugh before grabbing his guitar and notebook. He called for Jacqueline a few times before she responded, and they followed Louis into the neighboring dance studio for class. Harry headed out to the car to let Jacqueline have her first dance class solo since the beginning, and if he were asked if he wrote another song about Louis Tomlinson’s blue eyes, well, he’d deny it. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis works magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mild anxiety attack in this chapter*
> 
> \-----------------------
> 
> UPDATED 5/13/18:  
> hey friends this is SUPER IMPORTANT TO READ. If you've been here before, you may find this looks a bit different.
> 
> this is a reminder that my story is in fact a work in progress. it is the first full story i've written in a decade (literally) and i'm 22, so....you do the math. i'm rusty, and as I reread and re edit, i have fixed/switched around/added quite a few things.
> 
> pleaseeeeeeeeee if you have the time or even care, take the time to re read the story once I have it updated completely. i am finally happy with the way these first 6 chapters are, so they shouldn't be changing again.
> 
> please just bare with me.
> 
> \-----------------------
> 
> SONGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> Ever Since New York by Harry Styles (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bRDGQAUag8)  
> Sign of the Times by Harry Styles (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0GKGpObgPY)

Convincing Harry to do the show had proven to be much easier than expected. Louis had prepared a dissertation of sorts to convince Harry. He’d had his begging planned out perfectly, but in the end none of it was necessary. Perhaps the undertone of desperation in Louis’ voice made Harry take pity on him. Perhaps it was purely out of fatherly duty to his child. Or maybe even the exquisite meal at Jacqueline’s choice of restaurant, Whitby’s. Whatever the case, Louis didn’t care much. He only cared that he had two songs, which was the beginning of his new found life. Seeing as Perrie wouldn’t be killing him anytime soon. 

The choreography and costumes were all that followed, but Louis was an expert when it came to dance recitals. With a direction for his recital, he wouldn’t have a problem figuring out the rest. Having it done by the end of the day for the meeting was a different story entirely. Louis just wanted to make sure he had solid footing of the most important dance pieces. That would at least keep Perrie and the other girls happy, knowing that he was hard at work on the final plans. And if he could have the entirety of the dance pieces ready by early next week, he would be able to start teaching the choreography right on schedule. Despite the delay in production, the recital was shaping up to be one of his very best, at least in Louis’ mind. Louis had never had live singing or music at his recital before. But having Harry and Jacqueline were sure to be the stars of the show. Louis fully expected them to steal the audience’s hearts with their singing, the same why they’d already seemed to have stolen his own heart.

That was the moment Louis looked forward to the most, unsurprisingly. When Harry had first sang that last song, Louis thought his heart had stopped beating. The lyrics tapped into the chaos that the world was experiencing on a daily basis. It was a powerful song, and that’s exactly why Louis wanted to finish the recital with that piece. 

It was also why he’d begun choreography for it first. “Sign of the Times”, that’s what Harry had called it. And Louis planned on spending his entire day holed away in his home studio —the exact one he’d just told Harry he rarely used — piecing together the production, movement by movement. His meeting with the girls wasn’t until later in the day, so he had plenty of time to make progress on this as well as find some accompanying instrumental songs for the remaining classes. Harry had sent him the song demo, which Louis currently had connected to his speakers. 

And he was ready to go. 

He was inspired for the first time in months. He was actually dancing again too, instead of just instructing. That was due to Harry. There were these butterflies flying around in his stomach every time he thought about Harry, and the only way Louis could get rid of those damn creatures were by dancing. It was the only thing Louis had ever found that helped him clear his head. So he’d been dancing again, ever since Perrie had told him to ask Harry out and he’d actually considered it. 

Louis had genuinely forgotten how much he just loved to dance. He began by listening to Harry’s song multiple times, just dancing freely. Getting a feel for the music. Letting Harry’s voice seep into his bones and move him forward. Louis had loved hearing the raw raspy sound of his voice with the guitar. There was a simplicity in that. But the mixed demo tape was a completely different story. The song had wicked drums and interesting sound effects that aided in the huge buildup at the tail of the track. Louis hadn't heard anything like it before. 

A song as beautiful as this deserved to be heard, but Louis hadn’t mentioned that to Harry. Whatever reason Harry had for not releasing the song, it was his own to keep. 

As he danced, visions of flowers flew through his head, and he began to see a theme forming. There was a part for each of the dancers in his highest class. It was complex and fast paced, but he was confident they’d have the ability to perform the piece with perfect precision. There were moments for each of them to shine, and moments to showcase Harry’s song perfectly. He scribbled down his choreography notes in the booklet he would use to teach the other dance instructors the number and continued to move through the song. 

What felt like only moments later, Louis’ phone sounded off. The alarm Louis had set five hours ago to remind him of his meeting told him that he’d been working much longer than he realized. His day had flown by without even realizing it. He’d been so lost in his own world. Idly, Louis wondered if this moment was anything similar to what Jacqueline experienced when she got lost in her own world. As odd as it was, he wasn’t too surprised at himself for thinking of Jacqueline in the moment. Those fleeting thoughts came to Louis often. Thoughts of Harry and Jacqueline’s life together, outside of dance. 

Louis didn't allow himself to ponder too long on that thought but instead peered down at all he had accomplished. Not only had he managed to completely finish with Harry’s first song, he'd also found three instrumental songs for his beginner classes and begun their choreography as well. He’d managed to pull together costume and prop ideas for the final performance too. He still had plenty to complete before he could fully congratulate himself, but he was proud of what he had managed to accomplish in such a short time frame. 

Louis closed his notebook and shuffled some loose papers around before getting ready to leave. He pulled a pair of joggers on over his thin leggings and quickly pulled on his trainers. Louis took a quick survey of the room, making sure nothing was incredibly out of place, before bending over to grab his papers and heading out the door. Grabbing his keys from the front entryway, Louis was out the door with minutes to spare.

When he arrived at the dance studio, unsurprisingly, the girls were already waiting. They were sat perfectly in their circle of harmony or whatever. Louis took a moment to greet each member of the group before joining them, Jade on his left and Jesy on his right. 

“Well?” Perrie asked from across the circle.

“We have made progress.” 

Perrie smiled towards Jade with a knowing look that Louis never liked. “Time to pay up, Jade. 10 quid.”

Jade laughed, “Yeah right, better wait and see what he has to offer first.”

Louis deadpanned. “I’ll ignore both of those comments and move on to the recital like the mature adult I am.” 

Perrie and Jade fell into a fit of laughter, both mimicking Louis’ comment about mature adulthood. 

“Have you quite finished?” Louis muttered, before he pushed his notebook into the center of the circle. 

He opened the book to the beginning of his notes for the recital, and the girls began to shuffle pieces around. Once Louis was sure he had the girls full attention, he began. “I’ve been given a few songs for our students to dance to, and these songs have created a image in my mind of what I want this year’s recital to look like.” 

Louis stood up and headed to the stereo system on the other side of the room, where he plugged in his phone. “The entire theme hinges around this song, and so I’ll play it for you first so we can discuss what I see the dancers and the stage looking like.” 

Louis began playing Sign of the Times for them. As Harry’s voice filled the room, they had the exact reaction Louis was hoping people watching his recital will have. Their jaws dropped with the increasing intensification of the music and looks of wonder filled their eyes. Louis’ heart swelled with pride at what Harry had created. He was more talented that Louis could have ever imagined. When the song ended, Louis tapped a bit on his phone before he sat it one the table, still plugged in. He rejoined the circle and began to pick out specific papers off the floor.

He held the papers in his hands which were covered in quick pink sketches. Louis wasn’t an artist by any means, but his ideas for recitals usually began with pages of rough sketches before they became a reality months later. It was all a process. 

“Harry wrote that song. Over dinner last night, he told me it was about the world and the state that humanity is in. Every decision we make is critical, and we continue to show the worst sides of ourselves. But the song was made to remind himself that everything will be alright. There’s still good people out there. I think this is a wonderful message, and I chose this song specifically for our Advanced Two dance. More than that, I want the entire recital to revolve around this song and the feeling it evokes from the audience.” 

Louis paused a moment to gage the other girls’ reactions. 

“I love it Lou,” Leigh-Anne smiled. “That song is absolutely brilliant.” 

The other girls nodded their support. 

“So what will the recital look like, in your mind?” Jade asked from his side. “I know you’ve always managed a bit of a meaning behind your recitals. How are we going to convey the message of this song?”

Louis smiled cheekily towards Jade, “I’m so glad you asked, love.” 

Louis sent his sketches of the dance costumes he had in mind around the room. “As I listened to Harry’s song, I really began to see this vision of flowers floating around the stage. After a bit of research, I came across this idea, I suppose. Lotus flowers are a symbol of purity, and I thought what better image of the remaining purity in the world than our girls dancing.” 

“So, as you can see from the sketches, these flowers will be used both as props and as pieces of costumes. But everything that is pure is sure to be contaminated, right? It's a classic light versus dark phenomena. So if the lotus flowers and our girls, are the purity, what represents the darkness?” As Louis looked around the room, he saw each of the girls engrossed in the sketches of clothing, some murmuring about certain aspects. “You all know about my millennial pink obsession,” Louis continued. 

Jesy laughed, “Yes, we haven't forgotten. You tried to repaint the entire studio last year.” 

“Well it's a lovely color, who can blame me? Anyway, you know how I like our costumes to mostly be pink. The girls already mostly own pink things, and they wear them in class already. So I ran across another interesting fact. Historically speaking, pink water was only found in toxic environments that were generally war torn. So I thought pink costumes with a backdrop that looks like pink water with the flowers lying in the water, something like a bath bomb explosion. I want our youngest girls to be in white, flowered tutus and leos. As the girls get older the leos become pale pink and the flowers begin to fall off - those are for our intermediate classes. You begin to see that they’ve become contaminated as they get older. Then our two advanced classes will have bright pink leos and tutus with flowers on the floor. They bend over to grasp the flowers every now and again, but can't seem to keep hold of the purity because they've been fully submerged into the toxic environment that is this world.”

Jade let out a small gasp, “Lou, that is so inspired!”

Louis smiled in response. As the meeting progressed, Louis began sharing the choreography he had completed with the girls. They agreed to his plan of starting the choreography with the advanced lessons the coming week and waiting until the following week for the intermediate and beginner classes. Louis also played Harry’s second song and took any remaining ideas or tweaks that were suggested. They all left the meeting feeling thrilled and excited for this upcoming recital. Louis would show the completed choreography at their next meeting on Wednesday. 

After work, Perrie, Jesy, Jade, and Leigh-Anne all had plans to try out a new eatery by the name of Cactus Jack. They’d invited Louis along, but he declined. 

All Louis could think of doing was wanting to talk to — or better yet see — Harry. 

As Louis made his way through the carpark, he pulled out his phone to ring him. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Harry.” 

“Lou.” Louis felt the warmth of Harry’s smile in the softness of his voice. He sighed on his end of the phone before saying, “What are you up to?”

“Well, I just finished my meeting with the other dance instructors about the recital, and they loved my ideas. And they loved your songs.” Louis unlocked his car before slipping inside and placing all his papers in the seat next to him. 

“That’s wonderful, Lou.”

“It is. It feels really great to have a spark of inspiration for the recital.” Louis paused for a moment before taking a breath and continuing, “Are you busy tonight?”

Harry hummed, “Well not entirely, but with Jacqueline, I’m always busy.” 

“Oh, I understand. Don’t worry about it. Silly of me to ask you with such short notice.” Louis ran his hands nervously through his hair.

“Well, wait, Louis, hold on.” Louis heard a soft laugh come from Harry’s end of the phone. “I’m putting Jay down to sleep in about an hour. You could come over a bit after if you want to talk or something.” Harry’s voice was unsure, making his statement come out more as a question. 

Louis imagined Harry’s lips twisted together in his awkwardness and smiled to himself. “I’d love that, H.” 

“I’ll text you the address. 7:30, okay?”

“Perfect. See you.”

And with that Louis was off to his house to ready himself for his third not-a-date date with Harry Styles. He’d say he was the luckiest man alive. 

—

“Six siblings? You’re kidding, right?”

“Not one bit,” Louis laughed. That was the response he always got when talking about his siblings. “Doris and Ernest are the youngest set of twins, only six years old. Just a bit older than Jacqueline, I suppose.” Louis smiled at the thought of his siblings running around with Jacqueline, “They are wild animals, let me tell you. Phoebe and Daisy are before them, also twins. They‘re 16, which means all sorts of trouble for me mum and step dad, Dan. Fizzy is 19. She’s attending uni at Bristol. Lottie is 22, and she lives in London. I was a wee bit upset with her, if I‘m being honest with you, but it makes me glad that Fizzy has someone a bit closer to her.” 

“Upset because of the distance?” Harry wondered.

Louis hummed, “Well that, and she took me only niece with her.”

A smile slowly bloomed on Harry’s face, “How old is she?”

“She’s two and half, her birthday was in March. Her name is Octavia. I’ve not been able to see her since February, because of dance, but hopefully after recitals are done, I can make the trip down.” 

Earlier that week, Lottie had told Louis that she had set up a doctors appointment for Octavia in the next week, to see what the doctor had to say about Tavia losing her words. It put Louis mind at rest only a bit. He really just wished he could run off to London and stay with his sister for a bit. Leave reality behind and just play with Octavia and help Lottie while she’s having a hard time. Louis knew being a single mum was hard, he’d gone through it with his own mum. He was used to picking up some of the slack and helping out anywhere he could. It was part of who he was, and not being able to help Lottie had him anxious. 

Louis observed Harry for a moment, with his side against the back of the couch. His chin was resting in the palm of his hand. He looked as though he was trying to make himself appear smaller than he was, pulling his knees up to his chest. It was cute, and Louis had to work hard to suppress the knots forming in his stomach. 

“What about you?” Louis broke into the growing silence, “Any siblings?”

“Just one. Gemma  — she’s 29. She also lives in London actually. Does a lot of freelance journalism and other artsy things.”

“Do you see her often?”

“Not since her wedding last year.” 

“Well, it looks like we’re both due a trip to London then,” Louis smiled at Harry from across the couch.

“Appears so.” 

And Louis definitely didn’t think about what it would be like to take a weekend trip with Harry and Jacqueline to London to visit their sisters. 

—

They talked for another hour or so before they’d put on an old rerun of _ Will and Grace  _ _ — _ the originals, not the reboot. Harry felt strongly about the difference, and he’d made sure Louis knew that. 

It was comfortable, being around Louis. That was the only way Harry knew how to describe it. It was easy and calm, two things Harry knew very little about. The way Louis leaned his body against Harry’s as they lounged on the sofa. How Harry’s hand fit perfectly on Louis’ thigh, like it belonged there. And Harry felt like he could breathe. Like he didn’t have to worry about anything at all. He felt like, just for a moment, with Louis, he could stop worrying about Jacqueline. He could just be a twenty-six year old adult who still had so much more to do. He felt like he was free to just be Harry. Not Harry the father. Not Harry the songwriter. Not Harry the brother or son. Just Harry. 

And even better, he felt like Louis had this gleam of understanding in his eyes. Like somehow he knew what Harry was going through. Harry didn’t quite understand how that could be. It made no sense, when by the looks of it Louis hadn’t experienced anything similar. But there was still so much to Louis that Harry didn’t know yet. It was still so early on, so new and freeing, this thing they had going on. In the back of his head, Harry could hear Will saying his line. Something about filthy sailors and wanting to find them. He knew the line, heard it dozens of times, but in the moment the only thing his brain chose to register was Louis jolt of laughter that spread across Harry’s chest. 

He wondered if the racing of his heart was as obvious to Louis as it was to him. 

—

The next week flew by quickly for Louis at the dance studio.  Louis had completed the choreography Monday, and his meeting with the girls on Wednesday had gone over perfectly. The recital was for all intents and purposes ready to be taught to his awaiting dancers. The only thing left was to show Harry and get his final approval on choreography. It only felt proper to have Harry’s opinion on a dance set to his own songs. He didn’t want to have the dancers perform something that Harry wouldn’t be proud of. Which is why he had a meeting scheduled with Harry in about two hours, which Louis was equally excited and nervous for. Louis realized that Harry’s opinion on the choreography mattered more than anything else to him in that moment. Louis wasn’t one to rely on other people's approval. He’d always made his way by going against the crowd. By lacking approval from many, if not all, onlookers. But this was different. These songs were a piece of Harry, of who he was. And over the past two weeks they’d become a part of who Louis was as well, as he’d put his own heart into the dance. This meeting was important. It had to go well.

Over the past week, Louis and Harry had fallen into a bit of a routine. It had only been about two weeks since their first date, but something had clicked since that night at Harry’s flat. They talked easily over the phone almost every night about anything that came to mind. Harry sent Louis texts about horrible lyrics Mitch created throughout the week, and Louis would send Harry memes that the girls had been sharing around the studio. It all felt so comfortable and normal, and Louis couldn’t understand why he hadn’t gotten Harry’s number the day he’d stepped into the studio for his tour. Louis had this feeling he’d missed out on two months of life that he could have been doing with Harry by his side. 

He had him now which is what mattered. Sure, it had only been three dates. And sure, Harry’s daughter had been on one of them, and the last date had been sitting on the couch with him for hours. None of that mattered though. Nothing had to be a grand gesture with Harry. They were both busy beyond belief, with Louis’ recital coming up and with the album Harry had been working on putting together with Mitch. The little bits and pieces of each other that they held onto in the quiet moments were the most important to Louis. 

It scared him to think about how comfortable he’d gotten with their little routine. With the phone calls before bed, after Jacqueline had been put down. With the texts. The jokes they’d shared with each other. The small secrets that had started slipping out. 

It scared him how much he could get used Harry. 

—

“It’s just going to be him and the other instructors dancing to the songs, Mitch,” Harry said, exasperated.

Mitch had spent the last fifteen minutes of their work day trying to convince Harry to let him come see the dances Louis was going to show off at the studio later.

“Yeah, but they’re your songs, H. These songs are really important to you. I just want to see what Louis has made of them.”

Mitch knew good and well that he could see the dances, along with everyone else, on the day of the recital. He was trying to act innocent, but Harry knew better.

Mitch really only wanted to come because he wanted to meet Louis. Harry wasn’t quite sure they were at that point yet. It was still early on in whatever they were starting to develop. He couldn’t risk Mitch ruining that with his poor sense of humor. Or just his general demeanor really.

“You’re not coming.” Harry replied, trying to convey a sense of finality though in the back of his mind he knew it was useless. Mitch had a way of getting his way.

“You’re going to tell me that seeing Louis dance to a song you wrote about Em and Jacqueline isn’t going to make you emotional. You know you’re going to cry, and then you’re going to have take care of Jacqueline while you’re crying. We both know she freaks out when you cry. You’re going to tell me that in that moment, you’re not going to wish you had someone else to help you take her home. She’ll be screaming, and you’ll be crying.”

Harry sighed. He had a point there, but he was not about to give into Mitch so he pressed on. “You know that song’s not about Em and Jacqueline,” he said instead.

Mitch scoffed. Harry would have laughed at Mitch’s unnecessary eye roll in any other situation, but Harry was too focused on trying to keep Mitch from coming to the studio to worry about much else. “Right,” Mitch conceded.

Harry sighed. He’d won, for now. He allowed himself only a moment to relish in the short victory as he began to ready some of his things to leave the studio.

For now, apparently, didn’t last long.

Mitch studied Harry for a moment before he continued, “Yes, I’m sorry. How could I forget that ‘Sign of the Times’ is just about a mother leaving her daughter right after birth. You’re right, that’s not about Em at all.”

Harry looked toward the ceiling, “You know that the mother was dying and had to tell the daughter to go on and be great. That’s completely different.”

“Yeah it is, but we both know you only said those things were the inspiration because you didn’t want to admit it was about Em at the time. We both know that story is bullshit, Harry. And you know that’s a damn good song. The only reason you haven’t released the song is because it’s personal.”

“God, I hate you. Just leave it alone, Mitch.”

“I’m not going to leave it alone, Harry, because you know I’m right. You are going to break down like a fucking child when you see Louis dancing to your song. The song you wrote out of absolute heartbreak when Em left you. And Jacqueline is going to be scared. You know how she gets when you cry like that. And yeah she likes Louis, but Louis isn’t going to know how to handle that situation. But I do. So let me come with you.”

Harry was done. He was already tired, and Jacqueline wasn’t even home yet. 

“Fine.” He exclaimed out of frustration, “Get your shit and come with me, then. I’ve got to go pick up Jay.”

The look of satisfaction on Mitch’s face only served to piss Harry off even more, and the drive to Jacqueline’s nursery was silent. Once Jacqueline was in the car, she filled the silence by telling Mitch about all of Princey’s adventures. Harry didn’t say a word.

—

Louis was waiting for them at the front as they walked in the door. Louis smiled as he looked at Harry, but faltered when he spotted an unfamiliar man with him. As he made eye contact with Harry once again, he noticed that Harry carried an unusual tension, and Louis’ smile fell completely. Harry hadn’t offered Louis any smile. In fact, Harry hadn’t so much as acknowledged Louis. Something clenched around Louis’ heart; he chose to ignore it. 

Louis stepped out from behind the front desk to meet them. He bent to Jacqueline’s level, smiling at her as he greeted her. He took a moment to also greet Princey, which he knew would make her happy. She smiled at the sound of Princey’s name though she didn’t respond to Louis’ hello. Whatever strange energy fell around Harry, Jacqueline seemed completely unaffected.  

He stood again to greet Harry. 

“Harry,” his voice was quiet, even to Louis’ own ears. 

He glanced over to the man, “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he reached his hand towards him, “Louis Tomlinson.” 

The man extended his hand to Louis, “Mitch Rowland.”

Louis smiled, now recognizing the man as Harry’s coworker and co-writer. His smile quickly shifted to a smirk when he remembered one particularly awful lyric Mitch had written last week, something about an ambulance and a floating balloon that hadn’t made a lick of sense. 

“Got yourself a support team today, it seems.” 

Harry scoffed, “Not very supportive now, are we Mitch?” Harry eyed Mitch with something close to disdain. Louis tried his best not to look as uncomfortable as he felt in this moment. It seemed Louis was unaware of something going on between the two. 

In front of Louis, Jacqueline tugged on Harry’s arm, but he ignored her for the time being.

Mitch smiled at Louis, ignoring Harry’s comment. “He didn’t want me to come.”

“Think it’s best if I stay out of that one then.”

Jacqueline tugged again on Harry’s arm, this time harder. 

“What?” Harry spun around to look at Jacqueline, almost knocking her off her feet as she spun still holding onto Harry’s arm. 

“Go home.” She said simply. 

“We’re not going home yet.”

“Go. Home.” Jacqueline said louder, yanking on Harry’s arm with each word.

Harry pulled his arm out of Jacqueline's grip, apparently having had enough of that, but he didn’t respond to her. He was angry; Louis could tell by the hint of rage boiling in his eyes and by how white his knuckles were from clenching his fists. 

This wasn’t exactly how Louis had expected this afternoon to go, but nothing with Harry ever went as expected. 

Jacqueline stood behind Harry now, crying as she continually asked to go home. 

Louis tried to console Jacqueline for a moment by addressing her, “We won’t be long Jacqueline, I promise. You’re more than welcome to dance with us or play with Princey if you’d like.” 

Louis guided them through the studio to the room where the girls were waiting. Jacqueline followed behind them after a moment's hesitation. 

Louis gestured for Mitch and Jacqueline to head into the room but tugged at Harry’s wrist to stop him from entering behind them. Harry looked up at Louis, confused.

“You okay?” Louis asked softly. Truth be told, he was a little worried. Harry didn’t seem like the type to ignore Jacqueline and her requests. It was something he hadn’t seen before, that’s for sure.  “Did something happen? With Jacqueline or—”

Harry shook his head, immediately trying to dispel Louis’ concerns. He looked down at Louis’ hand on his wrist, and Louis willed himself to keep his emotions under control. 

“Mitch is just making an arse of himself.” Harry stared angrily at his shoes before taking a deep breath. “And I’m tired,” he admitted as he met Louis’ eyes.

Louis wanted to touch Harry, to console him. Tell him everything would be alright. He wanted to hug him and hold him tight. He wanted to kiss him. God, Louis wanted to kiss Harry so bad. No moment ever seemed to be perfect, though, and Harry deserved perfect. 

Louis’ hand slipped from Harry’s wrist to his fingers, settling for what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze, instead of what he really wanted. “I hope you like these dances, and I really hope they make you feel better. At least some.”

Harry looked breathtaking. He always looked beautiful, but here, his sad eyes and his slightly pouting lips. He looked like a puppy that had just been told off for ripping into the sofa. He looked like he’d done something wrong. Though with the way Harry told it, Mitch was the one upsetting Harry, not the other way around. 

Harry’s curls looked so soft, and Louis just wondered if they’d spring back when pulled. He shuffled a step closer in his sock clad feet. He reached up for one of Harry’s curls, and tugged gently. “I really want to kiss you,” Louis whispered under his breath, “but I’m not going to do it just yet.”

Honesty was the best policy, right? 

Harry bit down on his lip, nervously. “Soon,” Harry whispered back, as though they weren’t the only two people in the hallway.

Louis squeezed his hand again. He took a long, deep breath, willing himself not to push further into Harry’s space, and finally took a small step back. This time Harry returned the gesture as well, squeezing Harry’s hand lightly, before they walked into the studio. Their fingers stayed losely interlaced as they walked in together.  As they seperated, Louis joined the girls and began to ready themselves to dance, while Harry took his place next to Mitch on the floor. Jacqueline was in in the corner of the room playing with Princey, completely ignoring the rest of them, still upset that she wasn’t at home. 

Louis looked to the other girls, checking in with them to make sure they were all set to go. When they replied affirmatively, Louis looked at Harry.

“We’re going to start with ‘Ever Since New York’. It’ll be performed by the Advanced 1 class.”

Harry nodded before Louis tapped a button on his phone, and Harry wasn’t quite sure he was prepared for this. He supposed he didn’t have much of a choice now. 

As the music spread throughout the room, it was clear that Jesy was the focal point of this dance: she sat alone in the center of the floor, completely abandoned by the other dancers. As Harry’s guitar rhythm slowly built, Jesy stretched her arms almost as though she were just waking up. Her leg lifted elegentantly as she stood, and Jade came tumbling into the scene. Jade and Jesy danced around each other, and before Harry could realize, Leigh-Anne had entered the dance as well. Just as Harry’s voice came into the mix, Jesy slowly fell to the ground, hitting her knee perfectly and rolling in time with the music. Jade lifted her leg into a split at precisely the moment Perrie and Louis joined the dance as well.

The room was alive for a moment of elegant chaos. Harry didn’t know who to look at until Louis hit center stage. He pushed up on his toes, pivoting around as the other leg pushed into a perfect perpendicular. And if Harry had ever thought Louis looked beautiful before, it paled in comparison to the image in front of him. His fringe swept across his face as he danced, becoming increasingly disheveled, and Louis’ eyes were so intensely focused. He paid no attention to anything but his own movements and the music that guided him. 

As Harry heard his own voice sing the words ‘I need something, tell me something new,’ the girls and Louis all joined in a line in front of Harry and danced in unison. They completed a couple of leaps together, their legs and arms all hitting the exact same angles. The soft drums hit just as the group jumped and fell to the floor, in a similar fashion to what Jade had done at the very beginning of the piece. Their movements were so in sync with one another; it had Harry waiting with bated breath for each new moment. Harry wasn’t sure what each step was called, but he just knew it all came together perfectly. It fit so well with his music, and a feeling of pride began to swell in his heart.

There was something captivating in the way they danced. For a brief moment, Harry wondered if Mitch was just as enthralled, or if it was only him. But Harry didn’t dare take his eyes off the dancers to check.

For a dance recital, he honestly had expected something much more child-like, less mature. But this was sophisticated and graceful. They moved with such confidence, and Harry found himself unable to breathe. As the song came to an end, only Jesy remained center stage, and she closed out the number.

Harry finally uttered a single breath as he turned to Mitch for a moment, his eyes wide with wonder. He said to Mitch, “I’ve never been to the Royal Ballet before, but I imagine it’s something like that.”

Mitch chuckled for a moment, “You might be right.” Mitch looked at Louis before extending his words to the entire room, “That was incredible guys.” 

The girls smiled and accepted Mitch’s praise, but Harry was still fixated on what he had just witnessed. He found himself unable to process much else. 

“Do you think Jay could ever be like that?” Harry whispered to Mitch.

“Of course, H.” Mitch said instantly. “Jay is capable of anything.” 

Harry just smiled softly in response. 

Harry could feel Louis’ eyes on him a moment later. Louis looked like he wanted to speak but had decided against it. He was nervous, Harry realized. Louis turned to the girls, motioning for them to assume their positions for the next song. Louis nodded at them and then Harry heard the opening chords of “Sign of the Times” flood the room. Louis stood in the same place Jade had started the last song. The girls began crawling their hands around his body, as the eerie atmosphere of the song settled across the room. Louis appeared desperate to break free of the girls’ clutches, but they only continued to follow him. But only moments later, the girls spun away from him and each placed themselves in a different position throughout the room where they froze. Louis spun again on his toes before beginning a trek around the room to each girl. The girls each began to move as Louis passed by them, and once again, they all came to stand in front of Harry. They did a few choreographed moves, and then, as the chorus came, Harry could see it. The pain that was evident in Harry’s voice — had been evident in Harry’s voice for so many months after Em — was also evident in each of the dancer’s expressions. They each had a different way of showing it, but the pain in their eyes was the same. It left Harry wondering what they were remembering to evoke such pain. He wondered what Louis was thinking about in that moment, as he stared back at Harry with empty eyes. It was similar to the emptiness Harry had felt for months as he learned how to be a father to Jacqueline on his own. 

Only a minute or so into the song, Jacqueline tiptoed over to Harry and Mitch, sitting in front of Harry, mirroring his crossed legs. She stared up at Louis and the girls dancing with joy in her eyes. 

Harry hated how he felt like his body had been transported back on time. As though he’d been lifted up by the graceful movements of the dance and had been sent plummeting back to the moment Em had walked out of the door.  It brought tears to Harry’s eyes. He could vaguely understand he was reacting just as Mitch had predicted. He hated that. The dance was alluring, Harry could admit that, but it hurt so much. Like a freshly cut wound to Harry’s heart, one he’d thought he’d bandaged and allowed to heal years ago. As his body began to shake, he grasped Mitch’s leg, just to ground himself. Harry was trying to hate Mitch for knowing him so well, but his grip on Mitch’s leg said otherwise. As he listened to the song, Mitch was the only thing keeping him from falling apart entirely.

That pain in the girls’ eyes never left, and Harry knew they had to know the song’s meaning. He could see it in the way each of them played their own role. He could tell they were trying to convey a goodbye with their movements. As the music began to climax, the intensity of the dance followed suit.

He was captivated by Louis. He allowed himself to look at the lines of Louis’ body  — a small but welcome distraction from the turmoil he felt inside. It did little to mollify the tense coils in his stomach. Louis’ delicate wrists were stretched out as though he were trying to reach the heavens, but the vision of Louis as an angel before him didn’t calm the racing of his mind. Harry felt Mitch’s arms wrapping around his shoulders, his chest leaning heavy against Harry’s back. It’d be weird had it been anyone but Mitch. Harry was grateful that Jacqueline seemed more interested in the dance than focused on the two of them. 

The bridge began to fade as the song came closer to the end. Harry continued shaking, and he could feel his palms beginning to sweat. Was this what a panic attack felt like? He never recalled having one before. Could anyone have a panic attack? Harry had always thought only people with anxiety disorders experienced those. 

Harry could watch Louis dance all day, but he just wanted this particular song to end. 

He just wanted Em’s voice in his head to stop. He remembered coming home, just on another Tuesday evening, only months after starting his new job as a songwriter, and seeing Em, with her two suitcases packed up, ready to leave their lives forever. That’s all she carried with her apparently  — two suitcases. Harry had always thought she’d carried him and Jacqueline with her everywhere but that must have just been how he’d felt.

He’d wanted to marry Em. He’d imagined his life with her and Jacqueline, maybe even another child. Or a dog. He didn’t know all the details, he’d just known, or thought he’d known, that it would always be Em and Jacqueline. They’d been his guarantee. 

He’d had Jacqueline, and Em had only had two suitcases. 

Harry reached for Mitch’s arms and squeezed them tight where they fell in front of Harry’s chest. The song faded into the background as the soft piano slowly disappeared, and everything went silent. No one spoke, and no one broke the silence. Em was still in Harry’s head, never allowing Harry a moment of his own silence. 

As Louis looked on at Harry, he wasn’t sure what had happened. Harry had seemed relatively happy after the first song had ended. Emotional, sure, but Harry’s current state was far beyond emotional. He looked like he was breaking down, like he was being ripped apart at carefully crafted seams. Like the foundation of a well built house was crumbling to the ground after an earthquake. Louis quietly asked the girls to leave as inconspicuous as possible, making sure they remembered to stretch out before heading home. 

The silence continued to hang in the air for a couple of minutes before Jacqueline turned around to look at Harry. From his position across the room, Louis could see that her face, originally alight with wonder, dropped in sheer panic as she saw Harry’s state. She pulled on Harry’s arms frantically. 

“Mummy?” 

When Harry didn’t respond, she tugged harder, moving both him and Mitch forward. 

“Harry,” Mitch started, gently trying to shake the life back into Harry.

But Harry still didn't respond. 

“Mummy? Talk!”

“H, talk to us.” Mitch tried squeezing Harry’s shoulders, but Harry was only looking at Louis.

It stirred something in Louis stomach, but it wasn’t the usual light fluttering he had at Harry’s focus being on him. It was tense. It was something that resembled being ill. Like Louis might vomit at any moment. It was a bit of Harry’s panic reflected back at him. 

Jacqueline yanked even harder before Mitch finally snapped into action, picking up Jacqueline, at the exact moment she began to scream. She kicked and thrashed about as Mitch did his best to carry her out of the room. Right as he left the room, Louis saw Mitch stumble as Jacqueline kicked his shin particularly hard, before he regained his footing. The door closed behind them, leaving Harry and Louis alone. 

Louis immediately took Mitch’s place next to Harry. 

“Harry?” Louis’ hand was patting Harry’s leg gently. “H, can you hear me?” 

Harry nodded robotically. 

“Do you know where you are?” 

Louis wasn’t entirely sure, but by the looks of it Harry was possibly having an anxiety attack. Fizzy got those quite often when she was in secondary school, and Louis had learned how to help her come down from them after she’d started having them regularly. Louis knew they looked different for other people though. 

“Lou,” Harry breathed. Harry turned to look at Louis with a tear-stained face. “So sorry.”

Louis shook his head, wrapping his free arm around Harry’s waist and squeezing him closer to his body, “You’ve done nothing wrong, love. Nothing at all.”

Louis took a few deep breaths. He peered into Harry’s eyes, filled with panic. “Hey, H, take a few deep breaths for me, yeah?” 

Harry nodded again, now mimicking Louis’ own deep breathing. 

Louis nodded after a moment, “Yeah, that’s good, love.”

“Lou, ‘M sorry.”

Louis shook his head again, “No, Harry. Just hold on; it’ll be okay. You’re having a panic attack, but we’re gonna get through it together, yeah? Just do me a favor, and keep breathing. You don’t need to focus on anything else.” 

A quiet sob slipped from Harry’s lips as he continued to breathe like Louis had demonstrated, “A panic attack,” He mumbled a few times.

“That’s right. It’s only for a bit. It’s going to pass,” Louis reassured the younger man. 

Louis took a few moments in the following silence to catalog Harry’s reactions: his racing heart, sweaty palms, the confused way his eyes glanced all around, and the glazed off way he looked at Louis. He was scared, and Louis would be willing to bet it was the first time Harry had experienced something like this. 

When Fizzy had these moments, she’d often told Louis it helped just to hear him talk. It didn’t necessarily matter about what, just that hearing his voice helped her come back from the panicked feelings. 

“Jacqueline really seemed to like the dances,” Louis ventured, trying the same tactic with Harry. “She was mad at first, yeah, but I think she really enjoyed that last one. She’ll be great on stage, I’m sure. She’s going to love watching the girls dance to your song, H.” Louis made sure to keep his voice as quiet as possible, trying not to disturb any processes Harry was going through internally.

They sat there, just listening to each other's breathing and Louis’ quiet murmurings of encouragement for quite some time, before Harry looked up at Louis, eyes earnest. “It’s about Jacqueline’s mom,” Harry tried explaining.

“You don’t owe me any explanations, love.” Louis finally uttered, barely audible even in their close proximity. 

Louis met Harry’s gaze, but Harry couldn’t read his expression. He couldn’t tell what Louis was thinking, and it bothered Harry more than it should have. He wanted to know every last thought Louis had. He wanted to know all his hopes and fears. He wanted Louis to share every up and down of his day with Harry. And Harry wanted to share every piece of himself with Louis in return. Harry knew in that moment, that he’d give it all to Louis. His whole heart, Louis could have it. What would he be needing it for anyway?

“But I want to tell you everything,” Harry pleaded.

Louis replied, using Harry’s earlier word, “Soon.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! We are back on track! And here is chapter seven! Enjoy! :)

“The paediatrician confirmed that she hasn’t been meeting her milestones,” Lottie’s voice filtered through Louis’ phone. It’d been nearing two months since their first conversation about the issues Octavia had been experiencing. Lottie had finally been able to get into the paediatrician last week to discuss the possible sources of Octavia’s regression. “I didn’t even know there were true milestones to look for after 18 months. I mean, obviously, I knew there’s a lot more development to be had. I just figured each child’s progress was too different to put into categories at that point.”

“What milestones is she supposed to be meeting, then?” Louis asked curiously.

“Well, like, her doctor says she should be interacting with kids her age. Playing with them, yeah? Pointing at things, talking often, asking for things she wants or needs. LIke how she stopped asking for her sippy? She won’t point at it or anything like that. She doesn’t let me know when she’s hungry or in pain. Those sorts of things.” Lottie took a moment to herself before whispering, “It’s scary, Lou.”

“So what does that all mean? That she’s not doing those things? What’s the issue?”

“Well, it’s hard to say, I guess,” Lottie’s voice wavered just enough for Louis to notice, “but they think she might be on the Autism spectrum. They set up a preliminary diagnostic screening a couple weeks from now.” Lottie sounded on the verge of tears, but she was somehow keeping herself together. 

Louis wondered how long she’d know the information before she’d had the courage to call and tell him about it. 

“Autism?” Louis asked, shocked, unsure what else to say.

It wasn’t like Louis had never heard of Autism; he’d have to have been living under a rock. He was sure he must have met someone with Autism before, but then again, maybe he hadn’t. Was it always obvious? All of the ins and outs of Autism, Louis didn’t know much about. He wasn’t sure if that made him ignorant or simply someone who’d never been affected by it personally. 

Louis imagined Lottie all on her own in London, having to go to doctors appointments alone, with no one there to support her. Facing scary news all by herself as a single mum. Louis knew that she was strong, one of the strongest women he knew — after all she’d learned that from their mother. That didn’t make the loneliness easier on her though, surely. 

Lottie took a deep breath, “Yeah, Autism. I guess if that’s the answer it may be pretty severe considering she’s so far behind developmentally. Lou, I feel so stupid.” Lottie heaved out a breath as she bit back on another sob. 

“Lots, you are not stupid. There is no way you could have known this was going to happen,” Louis said, doing his best to reassure her with his words when it was all he really had to offer.

“Lou, I’m her mother, and I didn’t even realize she wasn’t properly meeting her milestones. Of course, it’s all my fault.”

“No, Lottie, it’s not. Not at all. Do you need me to come to the appointment with you? I will. I’ll come down if you need me, you know I will. I have two shoulders that are perfect for crying on, you know?”

Lottie laughed a bit through her tears, “Lou, it’s fine. I’ll make do. But we’d love for you to come down anyway, it’s been months, Lou. Tavia’s not even going to know her own uncle if you don’t come around more often.” 

Louis sighed, “I know, I know. It’s just really crazy owning me own studio, Lots.”

“I know, but family comes first.” That was what their mum always told them growing up. 

Lottie was right, Louis knew that. Louis knew it more than any of his other siblings, really. When he’d been young and his dad had left, it had been just him and Mum. Then, when his first stepdad had come around and Lottie and Fizzy were born, it had been Louis’ responsibility to help take care of them. When he’d left too, just like Louis’ own father, it had been them, on their own, yet again. But this time, his mum had to pick up extra jobs to make ends meet. That left Louis home with the girls, cooking the meals, changing the nappies, being far too grown up for a kid his age. He did his best not to complain though, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. His family was so close today, even with all the distance between them now, because they’d always relied on each other. 

“Soon,” he answered her. “I’m really hoping after the recital is over in December I’ll have some time to come visit. Maybe take a couple of weeks off for a holiday. I’ll see you in November though for Dan’s birthday, right?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lottie replied.

“Good.”

“Well I’ve got to run to Tesco. Talk to you next week, yeah?”

“Course, and call me if you need anything. Anything at all, I mean it Lots.”

“I will. I love you, Lou.” 

“Love you too, Lottie.”

—

Harry had suggested going to the Yorkshire Wildlife Reserve, and Louis had countered with Rum Rooms.  Somehow, they had ended up at Rum Rooms, although Harry wasn't actually surprised. Louis could be quite persuasive at times  — not that Harry ever required much persuasion when it came to Louis.

Harry had never been to this particular bar, but it held quite a unique atmosphere. The building itself contained three areas. The main level was a full restaurant, and in the basement were two bars  — Rum Rooms and Gin Rooms. The Rum Rooms’ vibe was quite hipster with exposed brick behind the bar, giant tin letters spelling out their name, and reclaimed wood tables with an eclectic assortment of chairs. They were sat at one of the high top tables near the front of the venue. Beneath the table, their thighs touched from how close their chairs were. 

Unlike Harry, Louis had been before. He’d told Harry that they had live music on Friday and Saturday evenings that usually ended up being pretty great. So Louis had won Harry over, using Harry’s own love for music against him. It was a treasonous act really, but Louis had promised the next date would be completely up to Harry to decide where they went.

Harry wasn’t convinced that would actually happen. 

But until then, he actually was really excited for the music, as much as it killed him to give Louis the satisfaction of knowing he hadn’t chosen a place that made Harry  _ completely _ miserable.

“So do we know who’s performing tonight?” 

Harry had his body turned towards Louis, and Louis’ body was in a similar position. 

“I think an Irish kid named Dean Gibbons? Guess he’s mostly local to England now though.” 

“I’m oddly excited,” Harry laughed. “I work in a studio all day, but you know, I haven’t been to a live gig in well over a year. Not since the last album release Mitch and I attended.”

“You haven’t released an album in over a year?” Louis’ eyebrow rose, “Isn’t that a bit of a slow pace?” 

It was silly, but Harry loved how genuinely interested Louis was in his work. It was refreshing. “Well, we write songs all the time. They usually just get sold off to different artists, depending on what they’re looking for at the time. Like recently, I wrote a song for Ariana Grande. I mean it’s one of her less popular songs, but still. Mitch and I don’t generally write full albums, is what I’m meaning to say. We did three of them in our first two years together, but since then, we’ve written more singles than we have albums.” 

Louis had this look on his face that Harry couldn’t quite place. “What?” Harry inquired, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Louis just smiled, shaking his head slowly, “You just don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

“That’s not true,” Harry dismissed Louis’ comment.

“But it is. Hazza, you just got done saying you guys wrote a song for Ariana fucking Grande and then followed it up with the excuse of it not being popular. As if writing a song for her still isn’t a huge fucking deal. She’s still Ariana Grande. She’s got high standards for her music, and she’s widely listened to around the world. She has millions of fans, and you’re trying to act like you wrote a song for your next door neighbor’s dog.”

“I actually did that once,” Harry offered, trying to shift the attention off himself.

“Which song did you write?” Louis ignored Harry’s comment.

“What?”

“Which song did you and Mitch write for Ariana Grande?”

Harry nervously scratched at the nape of his neck, “Well, I mean, I actually...just me?” 

“You wrote the song yourself, you mean?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You wrote a song and sold it to Ariana Grande, and you don’t think that’s a huge career accomplishment?”

Harry cocked his head to the side, “Well I didn’t say that, exactly.” 

“So which song?” 

They were back to that apparently.

When Harry didn’t answer Louis for a few moments, Harry felt Louis’ foot nudge him under the table. “Honestly?” Louis asked him in disbelief, “Your daughter has screamed bloody murder at me, and I’ve held you while you were crying. We’ve sat and talked for hours, but you won’t tell me the name of a song you wrote?” 

Well when he put it that way, it did seem quite ridiculous. But songwriting was such an odd thing. It was just that Harry was responsible for some good songs, but he rarely received true credit for that because he wasn’t the one singing them. That was how he liked it. Writing songs was his personal outlet, and he loved that. He was so lucky to be one of the few who made a living doing it, but the anonymity behind songwriting is why Harry had entered the production, rather than performance, side of the music industry. He loved being able to share his art with the world, without having a spotlight on his every move. 

Having Louis’ full attention was unnerving in a way he wasn’t used to. In the exact way he tried his best to  _ avoid _ .

“‘Just a Little Bit of Your Heart,’” Harry finally whispered.

From Louis’ face, it was clear he hadn’t quite heard him, so he repeated himself, this time louder. 

Louis burst into a fit of laughter, “Are you kidding me, Harry?” 

“No…?” Harry asked unsure. 

Maybe Louis had heard the song and not been impressed? Harry did his best to school his expression hoping that the small pull of creeping disappointment in himself may not be noticable. 

“Harry, you didn’t just write an unpopular Ariana Grande song. Do you even listen to the radio? That song was on the radio for weeks, and I’m pretty sure it hit number one. What  _ are _ you on about? Not writing popular songs, not being a good songwriter? Honestly young Harold, you don’t even know your own strengths.” 

Harry felt a blush creeping up his neck and turned away from Louis, begging him not to see. By the sound of Louis’ increased laughter, Harry guessed he wasn’t so lucky. Louis’ hand fell to Harry’s thigh, where he squeezed it as he leaned into Harry’s space. Louis’ heated breath fell on Harry’s ear, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Harry shook his head, the blush creeping up to his cheeks. Harry would love it if the floor would open up underneath him and swallow him up right about now. 

A man walked on stage and interrupted the moment before Harry had the opportunity to reply. He introduced the Irish boy, and the night took off. 

Dean was a pretty good singer, but his guitar skills needed a bit of work. He did well enough though for a young lad, and honestly, Harry was just excited to have a night out. He was excited to be able to spend some time with Louis. As of late, he felt like all his time with Louis was spent at the dance studio. And it wasn’t that Harry minded being a the studio with Louis  — quite the contrary, Harry loved seeing Louis in his element  — it was just that, he had been craving time with Louis that wasn’t centered around business. Harry wasn’t used to that, wanting to spend time with someone else so much. In the months he’d known Louis he’d gone from being Jacqueline’s dance instructor to being something of a confidant and friend. Someone Harry found himself trusting easily. 

Dean had played a few upbeat songs, but was now transitioning into ballads. The crowd had filled up, and most people were standing around the stage or in the back by the bar. Harry was drinking a spiced rum cocktail that was warming his throat in all the right ways, and Louis was drinking a peach rum punch. Harry was on just the right side of tipsy to be loose and free without losing complete control of himself. Just the way he liked it.

Harry leaned into Louis space to be heard over the music and idle chatter, “I wanna dance with you.”

“No one is dancing, Harold,” Louis replied.

Harry pulled back and stared at Louis for a moment before saying, “But I wanna dance with you.” He did his best to look innocent and cute, pouting and putting on his best puppy dog eyes, “Please, dance with me, Lou.”

And really, Harry wasn’t beyond begging. 

Louis rolled his eyes.

“That shit won’t work on me, you know.”

Harry didn’t believe that for a moment, though, because Louis was already standing up from his seat, reaching his hand towards Harry. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Louis told Harry through his smile.

“Maybe so, but I think you just might be quite fond of this idiot,” Harry laughed as he stood up, taking Louis’ hand in his own. 

“Maybe so,” Louis responded as he pulled Harry’s body into his own. 

They swayed in each others arms, hardly an excuse for dancing, for a couple of beats before Louis interjected into the silence, “So what do I get then?”

Harry hummed, “What do you mean?” His words slurred together a bit, more a result of his current state of bliss than from the rum.

“Well, you wanted to dance, and we are. So what do I get now?”

Harry twisted his lips together for a moment, thinking. After a short pause, he responded, “I think, you picked the place, so it’s all evened out.”

Louis giggled for a moment, his head falling close to Harry’s shoulder, “That right, H? Don’t think I agreed to that one.”

Harry smiled, “What do you want? Maybe I’d be willing to concede.” Harry put on his best somber face, trying to convey a sense of seriousness that wasn’t necessary for the conversation. 

Louis pushed up on his tiptoes which was arguably the cutest thing he did. Louis rested his forehead against Harry’s and whispered, “I could do for that kiss about now.”

Harry hummed, responding, “Well I’d have to think about that.” 

Louis was doing his damnedest to bite down on his smile. Harry knew he was nearing a fit of laughter by the crinkles that had formed by his eyes. Harry smiled at him, and just like that, they were both falling into each other in a fit of laughter. Harry with his booming guffaw and Louis with his sweet giggle. 

“I love the way you get these little crinkles by your eyes when you laugh,” Harry whispered into their shared space.

Louis’ face twisted into something akin to disgust, as he groaned. “I hate when they do that. Makes me look like I’m getting old.”

Harry just smiled, “Think it makes you look happy.” His fingers reached up to gently smooth out the crinkles, the palm of Harry’s hand resting on Louis’ cheekbone. Harry gazed into Louis’ green eyes before fixing his eyes on his pink lips instead. The way Louis was currently biting his bottom lip was doing something to Harry; he couldn’t quite put words to it. “Lou,” Harry breathed.

Louis didn’t respond, only mirrored Harry’s actions, shifting his own gaze to Harry’s lips. 

In the background, Harry heard Dean singing the opening chorus of ‘Just a Little Bit of Your Heart’, and the irony of the situation was not lost on him. 

But as Harry pulled Louis further into his own space, pressing Louis’ chest to his own, none of that mattered. What mattered was Louis’ soft eyes. And the way that Louis’ arm had slipped around Harry’s middle, in the perfect way that Harry had always loved being held. And the moment that their lips met, Harry had expected something novel. He’d expected a life-altering encounter, with metaphorical fireworks going off in the back of his mind. But there were no fireworks, and Harry wasn’t experiencing any earth-shattering epiphanies. In that perfect moment, he was grounded. Secure. He felt somehow safe, like the way he had when he’d walked into The Tomlinson Dance Company studio, and Louis had given him a tour to calm his nerves. He felt like he’d finally found where he belonged. 

As they seperated, much too soon for Harry’s liking, Louis had those crinkles by his eyes again. Harry thought he could see himself waking up to that face for the rest of his life and have no complaints. 

“Come home with me,” Louis whispered against Harry’s lips.

Logistically, Harry knew it wasn’t that easy. Mitch was at home watching Jacqueline. He couldn’t leave Mitch with her all night, especially not unexpectedly. Jacqueline would have an absolute meltdown if she were to wake up without Harry being home. 

But in the moment, and it was the only moment Harry could ever remember feeling this way, the logistics weren’t at the front of his mind. Louis was. So when Harry nodded at Louis’ request, he wasn’t thinking about Mitch or Jacqueline or meltdowns and confusion. He wasn’t thinking like Harry the father. Harry was just thinking about how he wanted more of Louis. And if Louis was offering that to him now, well, Harry would just figure out the rest later. 

—

Louis honestly hadn’t expected Harry to come home with him, was the thing. He’d expected Harry to say he needed to get back to Jacqueline. So walking back to Louis’ flat, his hand clasped in Harry’s, was a bit of an out-of-body experience. And each step took him closer and closer to an ending of  the night he hadn’t planned or expected. Louis wasn’t even entirely sure why he’d even asked Harry to come back to his place. 

He guessed the simplest of answers was that he didn’t want the night to end. 

“Should you like, call Mitch or something?” Louis spoke into the quiet of the night. 

The air was chilly. It was early October. England, having completely skipped autumn this year, seemed to think it was winter time. But they were both clearly in denial, if their lack of outerwear was anything to go by.  

Harry nodded, “Yeah, when we get to your place though, if that’s okay?”

“Course.”

They fell back into comfortable silence as they somehow drew closer to each other’s sides. 

The walk to Louis’ home wasn’t long, maybe fifteen minutes, but it was pleasant. Louis wasn’t much for comfortable silence, but lately he’d found himself falling into more and more bouts of this with Harry. Silence normally made Louis antsy; he’d rather be talking or even listening. But it was different with Harry. It was always so different. The way Harry inspected every little detail around him was so endearing. As they entered into a more residential part of town, Louis could tell Harry was silently taking in his surroundings, cataloging things. And so this silence was fine with Louis because he could watch Harry as he studied things. And lately there were few things Louis enjoyed more than learning the secret parts of Harry that revealed themselves in his demeanour. 

As they neared the street Louis lived on, he began to feel himself relax. His breathing slowed as his heart grew warm. Coming home always brought something of a fond feeling in his chest. He lived at the very end of the street, where his home had been constructed only a handful of years ago. He’d bought it new, soon after construction had finished, and he’d fallen in love with it straight away. The house resided on an old street, lined with similar brick terraced houses that had been built long ago. It resembled the street Louis had grown up on, the old countryside atmosphere that somehow remained quiet, right in the middle of the city. It felt like home which, Louis supposed, is why he chose it. 

The further they walked down the street, the more older houses began to fade into newer developments. The new houses were built to resemble the old houses so as to keep a unified feeling on the street, but it was clear which houses were new if really examined. The red brick hadn’t faded or chipped away like the older houses had from decades, if not centuries, of storms and decay. The windows were bigger, which Louis loved about his own home. The concrete that lead to his front door was uncracked, and the front door was a dark blue that to that day still looked freshly painted. There wasn’t a single thing Louis would change about his home. For that, he counted himself lucky. Not many people could afford a house only a few years out of uni, especially one they loved as much as Louis loved his home. 

“This is a lovely street,” Harry murmured as they turned towards Louis’ front door. “It’s cozy.” 

“It is. It’s a lot like my childhood home, actually.”

As they stepped in, they both removed their shoes before entering into the living space. 

Harry roamed the room for a moment, examining photos of Louis and his family as he smiled softly. He ran his hand across the mantle of fireplace which was the centerpiece of the living space and demanded all of the attention. Harry continued, fingers brushing any surface they could find, all with that contemplative look on his face that Louis had grown quite fond of in the past few months. Louis himself studied Harry, his movements, his quiet hums to himself, his hip delicately jutted out while he was looking at a particularly interesting book on the shelf. Louis’ eyes lingered, not feeling any penitence for his possibly intrusive actions. After all, Harry was the one being nosy. 

As Louis was watching Harry, he felt himself begin to slip down a rather slippery slope. The image of Harry, still studying that fucking book, sat on Louis couch. Sat at Louis’ kitchen table. Lying in Louis’ bed. Getting ready in Louis’ en suite. Playing with Jacqueline in the spare room down the hall. Yes, it was a slippery slope, or a cliff rather that Louis had in fact dived head first over. 

Louis wasn’t a musical person, never claimed to be, but in the moment his mind went back to a song that played as his mother’s wedding with Dan only a handful of years back.  _ But I carry this feeling, when you walked into my house, that you won't be walking out the door.  _ Louis wasn’t a sentimental person much either, at least not in his romantic life — with family and dance, sure — yet his mind wondered what was going through Harry’s mind. Was he thinking like Louis?  _ And you were right, when I walked into your house, I knew I'd never want to leave.  _

No, Louis wasn’t sentimental. He was just a goner for Harry fucking Styles.   
“Would you like a drink?” Louis ventured into the adjoining kitchen, hoping to leave his thoughts in the living room. 

Harry followed in after him, seemingly unbothered in the slightest by Louis’ abrupt question. 

“I’ve got, uh, apple juice,” Louis laughed, “me youngest siblings love it. Water, obviously, and, uh, I could put on a pot for tea if you like.”

Louis glanced over his shoulder to gage Harry’s response just to find him leaning against Louis’ counter, staring at him with those soft eyes, his lips fighting a smile. 

“What?” Louis asked, feigning irritation. 

“Nothing.” Harry smiled at him, “Water is fine for me.” 

Louis nodded. Ignoring the tug on his heart as he felt Harry’s eyes still lingering on him, he headed to the cupboard on his left for glasses.   

Behind him, he could hear Harry shuffling around, probably looking around his kitchen too. 

“You have a lovely home, Louis.” 

Louis hummed in response, as he went to fill the glasses with ice and water. “Got it a couple months after the studio.”

“How’d you manage that?” Harry asked curiously.

As Louis turned to offer the glass to Harry, he could see that Harry’s brows were knit together in confusion. 

“Surely opening your own studio was difficult, financially? And then you purchased a house, too?” 

“The deposit was quite steep, I’ll be honest. But me mum helped out a bit. She said it was her house warming gift,” Louis rolled his eyes. “But really, I think, she just didn’t want me to be homeless. All my savings had gone into the studio, and it was doing well, really. After only four months, classes were full. So it was bringing in steady money even though I was still in debt, of course.”

Harry nodded, “That's lovely of your mum though, to help out.”

“Well see, after she married Dan, almost seven years ago now, she’s been like that.” 

Louis meandered across the kitchen and back into the living space where he took a seat. Harry sat next to him, pulling his feet under his body. 

“What way do you mean?” 

“Well, we never had money growing up, see. With only me mum to take care of us because me own dad left, and then Lottie and Fizzy’s dad left, too, after only a few years. So yeah, you know. Taking care of three kids with only one person’s income was hard. But now she’s been with Dan for so long, he’s stuck around longer than anyone else really. And he loves her a lot, and the kids too — all of us.” Louis smiled to himself for a moment, reflecting. “It’s nice. I’m so happy that the twins get to have that. They deserve it. No child should have to grow up thinking they’re not wanted. Regardless, Dan has quite a bit of money. He’s young and he’s quite successful at the law firm he works at, close to making partner, I believe. But Dan’s a good man, and he wants to take care of Mum, and us too I think. So when I started the studio and bought this place, they were quick to support me however they could. Even if it was crazy or reckless or whatever.”

“That’s lovely, Lou.” Harry gushed, leaning into Louis’ space. Their shoulders molded together, as Harry leaned his weight against Louis. “You deserve to have a good support system. You all do.” 

Louis smiled at Harry’s sentiment, not allowing himself to fully take in the words. “Well, everyone does really. It’s like a basic right, I suppose. I’m no more special, Harry.”

Louis watched as Harry began to shake his head vehemently. “No, Lou, that’s not true. That’s not true at all!” 

It was a bit more forceful than Louis had expected, coming from soft, quiet, contemplative Harry. Harry placed his glass of water down on the coffee table before turning back to Louis. “You deserve to have support from your family. You should have had it your entire life, really. You’re so good, Louis. You should be told so, all the time. You’re perfect even, and, and, and —” Harry’s ramblings broke off, thinking for a moment, “You should just know that, Lou. You’ve got to know that.”  

Louis felt like he was swimming in Harry, or perhaps, he was drowning. The words flew past his head, his mind trying to grab onto each one and understand. But he was failing. _ Stay with me, stay. _ He shook his head, confused, and just feeling like he was drowning. Drowning in the best possible way. Drowning in thoughts of Harry. Drowning in Harry’s praise. “I don’t deserve any of that, H. ‘m just another lad from Donny, nothing special.”

Harry fell forward, his forehead resting on Louis’ and his hand coming up to sit on Louis’ cheek. 

Louis was definitely drowning. 

He wasn’t breathing. 

“You’re special, so special, Lou,” Harry’s hot breath fell across Louis lips. 

Louis opened his mouth, uttering out a soft, “‘m really not—” before Harry’s lips had crashed into his own, swallowing his remaining words. 

Louis felt his grip on the glass of water he was still holding tighten, as he took in the intensity of Harry’s lips on his own. He wished he would have set the glass down when Harry had set his own down, but now, he was stuck. Fervently kissing Harry’s lips, wanting to run his hands through those bouncy curls, but unable to do much else but press further into Harry’s kisses. Begging for more. Always more. 

Had Louis mentioned that he was drowning? Because he could definitely feel his lungs filling with something that was in fact _ not _ air. His brain clouding up, as he felt himself short circuiting from the way Harry bit down on his lower lip, surprising a quiet moan from Louis’ lips. Completely unsuspecting to the assault that was Harry Styles on Louis’ body. 

Louis was most definitely dying. There’s no way he was going to survive a night alone with Harry, much less that life together he’d pictured earlier. He was done for. It’d been a good life Louis had lived. He was a lucky lad. Had a family who he loved and had loved him. Louis wasn’t sure how long they continued like that, with that fucking glass of water still in his hand. But he knew any moment was sure to be his last. Any moment, his body would give way to that sweet, sweet surrender. 

Too soon, yet entirely too late, Harry pulled back from Louis, finally allowing Louis to set down the damn glass. 

Harry ran a quick hand through his hair, where it then sat tugging on a loose strand of hair. He swallowed lazily, his eyes boring into Louis’ soul in the most chilling of ways. His eyes held a certain hint of terror that Louis hadn’t ever seen previously. “I needed to call Mitch,” Harry asserted, abruptly pushing his body away from Louis’ on the couch.

Harry stood, not acknowledging Louis again as he walked back towards the kitchen. 

Louis sat, dumbfounded, alone on the couch. 

_ What the fuck?  _

His heart continued to race, pounding away in his chest, reminding him that he  _ was  _ in fact alive. His head fell into his hands as he braced his arms on his knees. His mind raced in time with his heart as he thought through the evening. The dance, the kiss, the walk home, the couch. What was happening? Who the fucking hell did Harry Styles think he was? Reducing Louis Tomlinson of all people to a puddle of anxiety and excitement in his own home from just a heated snogging session. 

Perhaps, the better question was what the fucking hell was wrong with _ Louis, _ allowing himself to be reduced to a puddle of anxiety and excitement  _ in his own home _ from just a heated session of snogging. This wasn’t like Louis at all. Louis didn’t have schoolyard crushes or butterflies flying around his stomach. If Louis was honest with himself, he hadn’t done much of anything past a few one night stands here and there since coming out of uni. No one had been able to catch Louis’ attention for more than a week. Not because he wasn’t looking per say, it was more just a lack of interest. He’d spent most of his life since graduation focused on opening the studio, supporting the studio, growing the studio. It had taken so much time, all his effort, and often times left him feeling drained. The club crawl just hadn’t ever been appealing. Sure he went out with the girls or the lads he still talked to from uni here and there, but romance had never been on his mind.

What was it about Harry Styles that just left Louis floundering? 

Harry walked back into the room, just as Louis’ mind had begun to settle, still clutching his phone to his ear. 

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded his head, though Mitch obviously wouldn’t be able to see, and hummed in response. “I’ll let you know, yeah. Just call me if she gets upset—” Harry sighed heavily. “I know you know, Mitch, but I still have to say it.” Harry paused again, listening to Mitch. “That doesn’t matter. You know that. Just promise you’ll call?” He waited again, “Mitch, promise me.” 

Louis did his best not to stare, trying not to be nosy, but it was a bit difficult with Harry slowly stepping closer and closer to him. 

“Okay, thanks.” Harry hummed again, “Yeah, you too. I’ll text you when I leave. Bye.” 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He threw his body onto the couch next to Louis, their sides pressed against each other. His head fell into his hands, as he groaned in frustration. 

“Okay, there?” Louis asked softly, nudging Harry’s shoulder lightly. 

“Yeah, she’s just been asking for me, I guess.” 

“Need to go home?”

Harry leaned his body on Louis’ before shaking his head, “No. Mitch says she finally fell asleep, so as long as she doesn’t wake up or anything it’ll be fine. As long as I get home before she wakes up, it’ll be fine, yeah.” He sounded unsure, like he was really just trying to convince himself of the words, rather than Louis. 

Louis took hold of Harry’s hand, carefully extracting it from where they rested against his forehead. He squeezed, hoping for some sort of reassurance before quietly asking, “You wanna watch a movie and just relax?” 

Harry raised his head and turned to stare at Louis with eyes filled with hope, “Can we?” 

Louis chuckled softly, bringing Harry’s hands to his lips, gently pressing kisses to Harry’s knuckles, “Course we can, whatever you wanna watch, Hazza.” 

“Anything?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“Anything.”

Louis smiled and gently pecked Harry on the lips before pointing out where Louis kept his movies. 

—

Of course Harry had to pick the only romcom Louis had ever purchased.

So they positioned themselves on Louis’ couch — sprawled out with Harry lying across most of Louis body and Louis’ back pressed against the couch — and watched The Notebook until Harry dozed off right before Allie had discovered the letters. 

—

Harry hadn’t been asleep for long, only really missing about three scenes, before his phone began buzzing in his back pocket. Louis could feel the vibrations against his upper thigh, but Harry didn’t seem affected by it. His soft snoring continued as the phone went silent only moments later.

Louis returned his focus to the screen just as Harry’s phone buzzed once more, probably from a voicemail notification. Louis contemplated waking Harry up, but figured if it was urgent whoever was calling would try again. 

Louis had been right. Not even a minute later, Harry’s phone was ringing again, and Louis’ mind flashed to Jacqueline asking for Harry. It had to be Mitch calling. Louis gently shook Harry awake with a whispered, “H, H, your phone.”

Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eye a bit, mumbling a few incoherent words. 

“Babe, your phone.”

In that moment, the phone buzzed and then subsequently fell silent. Harry bolted upright, instinctively reaching for his phone in his back pocket. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” 

Harry was already tapping away on his phone, bringing it towards his ear. He didn’t even bother listening to the voicemail. He squeezed his phone between his cheek and shoulder, heading towards the front entry of Louis’ home. 

Louis found himself instinctively following, worried that something had to be wrong. Mitch wouldn’t have called if it hadn’t been absolutely necessary. 

Harry was hastily shoving his feet into his shoes as Mitch picked up. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, his voice rough with sleep. 

There was a pause as Harry listens to Mitch for a moment. Harry was still trying to pull his shoes on his feet, but with the phone squeezed to his ear, it didn’t appear to be working itself out. “How long?” Harry asked Mitch, before he pulled the phone away from his ear and placed it on speaker phone. He set the phone on the ground next to his shoes, now putting them on properly. 

“Probably about a half hour,” Mitch replies, “I’m trying to settle her down, but she’s not having it at all. She woke up asking for you, and you know from there it just, it wasn’t good.”

With his shoes on, Harry picked up the phone, bringing it back to his year. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there, but I took the bus, and we walked to Louis’.” Mitch said something to Harry, but Louis couldn’t quite hear. “It’ll take a bit.” Another pause. “As soon as I can.”

As Harry and Mitch continued to talk, Louis pulled on his own shoes as well, readying himself to take Harry home. There’s no way he was letting Harry take a bus home. It’d take thirty minutes just to wait for the bus, plus the time to get off and walk home. Jacqueline would have been hurting for well over an hour, and that just wasn’t something Louis could live with when he could have driven Harry home just as easily himself. 

“Are you holding her?” Harry looked at Louis for a moment, his eyes sad. Harry appeared to be mostly holding himself together; whether that was for Louis’ sake or his own, Louis wasn’t quite sure.  “Okay, well just, try to hold her. Give her Princey, and try and get her back in bed if you can.” Harry choked on his words for a moment, his voice breaking, “Maybe sing her a song.”

Louis reached for Harry’s free hand, squeezing.

He grabbed his keys from the table by the front door and pulled Harry out of the house, not even stopping to explain. After locking up, he headed to the car, pulling Harry behind him. By the time Harry had gotten off the phone, Louis was already on the road headed to his house. 

“I was going to take the bus,” Harry sputtered weakly.

“Well that would have taken twice as long,” Louis huffed.

“You didn’t have to, Lou—”

“Harold, stop talking.” Louis squeezed Harry’s thigh, chancing a quick look at Harry before returning his eyes to the road. “I’m here, okay. So just, let me help. I can’t _ really  _ help, but like, let me try.” 

“Lou—” Harry’s voice faltered.

Louis squeezed his thigh again, doing his best to comfort from afar, “Hey, hey. It’s going to be alright. We’ll get there soon enough, and you can make it better.” 

“She’s been screaming for half an hour. He should’ve called me sooner.” Harry ran a hand through his lengthy curls as he bit down hard on his bottom lip. “Mitch is supposed to be better than that. He promised, Louis. He fucking promised me he’d call if she woke up. God, I knew she would be upset. I could feel it. Something was wrong. I should have just gone home.  _ Fuck. _ ”

Louis stopped at a stoplight and fully turned towards Harry for a moment, his hands cradling Harry’s cheeks. “Hey, stop that now. You’re a good father. You couldn’t have known this was going to happen. And Mitch is good with Jacqueline. You trust him. It’s okay. He can handle it until we get there. You deserved a night out, H. You don’t have to feel guilty for that. We’ll take care of it when we get back.” 

“I don’t think I can do it anymore, Lou.” Harry mumbled, “I’m so fucking tired.”

Harry was in a right state, having just woken up. His hair was tangled, his eyes were heavy, and he looked close to tears. His frustration with Mitch was evident, but really Louis thought he was mostly frustrated with himself. He was always so hard on himself when it came to Jacqueline. 

Louis gently pressed his lips to Harry’s in an innocent kiss before turning back to the road. “I know you are, H. But you’ve gotta do it. Jay needs you.” 

Harry exhaled, “You’re too good to me.”

Louis shook his head, “No I’m not. You deserve someone who’s here to support you.”

“You didn’t ask for all of this though,” Harry murmured.

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I’m here, by my own choice. No fault to you— you don’t control me. I’m here because I want to be. And Harry,” Louis glanced towards Harry, but he was only staring at the road. “Hey, look at me, H.” 

Harry instinctively glanced towards Louis, still with those sad eyes. 

“I’m with you, Harry.” 

Harry’s breath hitched, “What? What do you mean?”

“I’m with you. There’s nothing I can do about it. Can’t change it, you’re stuck with me, sorry.” Louis let out a humourless laugh, attempting to the lighten the mood but really only sensing his feelings get caught in his throat. Louis looked back towards the road as he pulled onto Harry’s street, quickly making it to his flat.

Louis kept his eyes forward as he pulled up to the kerb. He waited a moment for Harry to make his way out of the car, but Harry hadn’t moved a muscle. Glancing back towards Harry, Louis found that Harry was still staring at him, with wide, green eyes that looked like the earth. And god, was that ironic when lately it seemed like Harry was Louis’ entire world. 

Louis nudged Harry’s shoulder, trying his best to keep himself from over thinking the words he’d just let spill out, “Go on. Jacqueline is waiting for you.” 

“Stay.”

And...what?

There’s no way Louis just heard what he thought he’d heard. Surely Harry hadn't just asked him to stay? As in, come inside my house where my daughter is having a meltdown of sorts, and stay with me while I try to help her? Surely Harry hadn’t mean  _ that  _ kind of stay. 

“What? Harry, go inside and take care of Jacqueline.” 

Honestly, Louis had probably just heard him wrong.

Harry shook his head, reaching out for Louis’ hand, “Please stay.” His voice was broken, on the edge of something that Louis really didn’t want to think about. 

“Babe, Jacqueline needs you.” 

“Yeah, but I need  _ you _ . Please, Louis.”

And if the waiver in Harry’s voice hadn’t been enough, the tear that slipped down his face as he begged Louis to not leave him had decided it. 

“Okay,” Louis somehow found himself whispering as he followed Harry into his home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> Just a heads up, I'm leaving the country on June 1st and won't be back until August 1st. So this chapter will almost definitely be my last update until after August 1st. I know it's a really long time, and I've very sorry! But alas, it must happen. No worries though, I am still very much invested in this story. It is not being abandoned!
> 
> Leave a comment or kudos to let me know you liked it! And don't forget to talk to me on tumbler, I've very lonely.

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by The Other Side by VACAY, check it out.
> 
> Oh, and you can check out my tumblr/talk to me on tumblr if you want.
> 
>   [yslsaint ](yslsaint.tumblr.com)
> 
>   [Story Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/rachelsdl/playlist/55C5qDhpUeR6sNPfDKXKoj?si=pEakPM99RnyEctBUtbVP_g)


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